Murder on the Ballarat Express
by HeartOfTheWild
Summary: Channelling a bit of Christie into DBM fanfiction - all characters are borrowed, I do not own copyright - but in this imaginary murder mystery story J L are already happily married... but who killed the woman on the train? Everyone is a suspect, including Jean!
1. Chapter 1

Murder on the Ballarat Express

Intro: Chapter 1

Tumbling off the number 96 Tram, Jean Blake hurried into Spencer Street station carrying a multitude of bags and parcels. She almost ran into the ticket hall. Glancing at the boards on the wall Jean confirmed that she was still on time, thank goodness, she would be home in time to get dinner ready. She hurried down the ramp to Platform #2. Gaining the long platform, she noticed that the Victorian Country Rail Line diesel engine was already in place and starting to hum. Lucien had insisted she take a first-class seat, which she had thoroughly enjoyed on the way down and she was looking forward to her homeward journey. As she approached the front, where the first-class car was usually located, she found a large group of people around the conductor making disgruntled grumblings. Wriggling her way through the crowd, with an 'excuse me' here and a 'pardon me' there, she was able to hear what the conductor was saying.

Oh, bother it! Apparently, the first-class carriage had yet another problem with its bogie (whatever that was) and had been pulled from service (again). All first-class passengers had been reallocated seats in the second-class compartments. Vic Rail was very sorry for the inconvenience and the difference in fares would be refunded to all passengers and would you kindly step forward and state your name and receive your new carriage and seat number? Most of the passengers were philosophical about this and only made token grumbles about it being a typical example of Vic Rails' continued incompetence. Jean could hear one or two voices protesting vigorously, one loud male, the other a female's high pitched nasal whine that Jean thought she recognised. Jean shrugged to herself. No use complaining, it wasn't the first time she had ridden second class, probably wouldn't be her last. It wasn't going to bother her. Anyway, it was only a 2-hour trip or so.

Jean received her new seat assignment from the harassed conductor. As she did so, she gave him an encouraging smile. She travelled on the train often enough to recognise him, not by name, but knew his face. He gave her a wry smile in return and waved her into her designated carriage. It was the older 'S' type carriage, not the newer saloon car Z types. They must have pulled this out of the sheds specially for this run. Jean preferred the new, modern Z carriages, but found the private compartments of the S type rather quaint and more than comfortable.

The young porter helped her up the steps and assisted her with her bags, showing her to her compartment. Jean was delighted to realise that she had been granted a window seat, this more than made up for the loss of the fancy first class carriage in her mind. Even if it wasn't facing forward a window was a bonus; she didn't mind travelling 'backwards'. Placing her parcels on the overhead luggage rack she turned and took her seat. Settling into place, feet neatly together and handbag on her lap she looked about at her fellow passengers curiously. Second class may not be as 'posh' but you got an interesting variety of types!

Seated next to her was a young school boy of around 12 or 13 or so reading a Phantom comic. Jean thought she recognised him, he was going to the Christian Brothers School in Ballarat. He had a bit of a reputation as a larrikin, a troublemaker, if she recalled correctly. He looked up at her with mischievous blue eyes. Jean smiled at him and he returned her smile with a wide grin that showed off a set of teeth stained an alarming blood colour from the 'Redskins' he was eating. Next to him sat a dumpy, middle aged woman that Jean also recognised vaguely as the boy's mother, she came to church at the high holidays but Jean never saw her otherwise. She said a quiet 'how do' to the lady who returned a polite nod. The seat closest to the door was occupied by a man in a suit, a business type, who was engaged in deep conversation with a similar sort sitting in the seat opposite to him. Next to him sat a man dressed in moleskin trousers and held an Akubra hat in his lap who nodded politely at her. A stock agent perhaps? The seat next to him was currently vacant so Jean looked directly in front of her to see the grazier, Peter Grady sitting across from her, smiling. She knew him from church and he and Christopher had been friends many years ago. They were shaking hands and exchanging greetings when the compartment door slide violently open and the final passenger arrived.

'Oh no' thought Jean to herself. 'It would be her.' Small, slight, with a crabbed look on her face, elderly Elizabeth Peterson peered nearsightedly around the compartment. She cast a disdainful look at Jean and then turned to the young porter who was carrying her bags and whined: 'You cannot expect me to sit HERE. Between these two obnoxious men and with these sorts of people!' She cast pointed glares at the boy's mother and Jean. The porter mumbled something about all seats having been allocated and there were no others available. With another dagger glance at Jean she shrilled 'I would have expected that I got the window seat at the very least! Don't you know who I am?' With a grovelling apology the porter insisted that this seat was the only one available and Elizabeth Peterson sat herself down in it with a huff and extremely bad grace. 'Well?' she ordered the poor boy, 'Put my bags up!' She made a hitching sort of motion in her seat and made sure neither her skirt or any part of her body touched the two men sitting either side of her. The stock agent pointedly ignored her and Peter Grady looked at Jean and rolled his eyes. Jean hid a grin. Elizabeth was one of the ringleaders of the witch-hunt at Church when it was discovered that Jean was (shock! horror!) marrying that dipsomaniac _and_ divorced Lucien Blake! Jean had no time or patience for the woman and avoided her if she could. She looked away and out the window to see the brakeman outside waving his flag to signal that train could depart.

The Ballarat train gave a lurch and clunk as it departed the platform and began to hum its' way down the track out of the city. Jean and Peter engaged in a polite conversation catching up and talking about the weather and the current drought worry. It was just ambling talk to pass some time but at every opportunity Elizabeth made a sniff in their direction and cast sneering looks at Jean. The train picked up speed out of Footscray and was travelling through Sunshine as the conductor came through the carriage to check their tickets. He also gave them the warning that although this was an express, they would need to stop briefly at Bacchus Marsh station. This gave Elizabeth yet another opportunity to express her displeasure at her seat, the 2nd class carriage, the people in the carriage, the extra stop, and oh my! she didn't know just what the world was coming to.

The Conductor was conciliatory, but Jean could tell he had just about enough of Elizabeth's whining. 'Haven't we all,' thought Jean to herself. The Conductor left as soon as all tickets were checked and refused to listen further to Elizabeth. Just then the gong chimed announcing that the buffet car was now open for service. Peter stood up and looking at Jean he said, 'Right, I'm taking my disreputable self off to have a beer!' and swaying with the train motion he ambled out the compartment.

'Insufferable man!' snorted Elizabeth.

Jean turned away from her and looked out the window. She would refuse to let that vindictive old woman get to her. Closing her eyes, she thought about Lucien and how he would enjoy her tale of her shopping trip into town today. She had actually stood up to Max at Job Warehouse and demanded to see their best green silk! And Max had complied, not thrown her out of the shop as he was wont to do and now in her bags was the most wonderful watered green shot silk she had ever beheld. Dreaming of the new dress she would make and Lucien's compliments she dozed. Half asleep she heard the rustling of paper as the boy's mother unwrapped some sandwiches from her valise for the boy. Elizabeth made a disgruntled comment about this. The two business men shook out their newspapers and talked quietly together about insurance prices, they both stepped out on occasion to have a cigarette in the smokers' carriage. She felt the boy and his mother get up and leave and come back. Elizabeth also rose with a huff and left the compartment to return some time later snarling to anyone would listen about the vile tea and service in the buffet car. The stock agent left at one point and returned smelling of scotch. Peter came back carrying the odour of meat pies and beer, then left again and finally Jean knew nothing until the train lurched to halting stop at Bacchus Marsh. Half awake she looked around the compartment sleepily and noted all were back in their seats. Peter had returned and was snoring softly, his head on the window pane. Elizabeth too had nodded off, upright but slightly slumped as her head bobbing on her chest, hands clutching her handbag on her lap tightly. Jean yawned a little and watched the scenery as the train pulled out of Bacchus Marsh towards Ballarat. Soon she would be home with Lucien. She hoped that someone had thought to prepare the vegetables for tonight's dinner, but no matter if they hadn't, it was only chops tonight. Something quick and easy.

It wasn't long before the train was gliding into Ballarat Central. The Conductor and Porter were moving down the hall, people were rising and reaching to the overheads to collect their parcels. The Stock Agent stood up and stretched out and reached down his small case. Jean looked over at Elizabeth who was still asleep. Jean didn't want to be the one to have to wake her. Catching the eye of the boy's mother she indicated Elizabeth. The woman reached across to shake her awake. Placing her hand on Elizabeth's should she gave her a little shake only to have Elizabeth slide and fall sideways into the Stock Agents now empty seat. The Boy's Mother shrieked and all turned to look.

Elizabeth Peterson was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Murder on the Ballarat Express: Chapter 2

…

At the sounds of the panicked shrieks, the Conductor and Porter came running down the passageway, pushing aside curious passengers looking toward the sounds of the commotion. Young Bert Smith, the Porter, arrived first and stood at the doorway to compartment 4 with his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Phillip Crane, the Conductor, shouldered Bert out of the way and viewed the scene. This was not the first time he had experience of a death on a train. There were procedures and protocols to follow and he sprang into action.

'Right. Everyone resume your seats please and stay calm. You,' and he pointed to the Stock Agent who was now leaning over Elizabeth trying to feel for a pulse in her wrist, 'go stand by the window and let me deal with this.'

The Agent nodded and said quietly, 'No pulse.'

Conductor Crane pulled out his two-way radio and turned to Bert. 'Bert, get everyone back into their compartments and sitting down. Tell them there will be a short delay before they can disembark. Don't answer any questions!' he barked. Then he fiddled with the radio and called up the Engine room and started to give directions.

'Incident in compartment 4, Carriage 207. You need to delay unlocking the doors. Advise passengers there will be a short delay…. Yes… it is a death…. Yes, we need to find a doctor…'

Overhearing this comment, Jean spoke up quickly, 'My husband is a Doctor! Doctor Blake. He should be on the platform waiting for me.'

Crane glanced at Jean and resumed speaking on the radio, '…Yes, right, there should be a Dr Blake on the platform. Call the Station Master and get him paged. I'll wait for him at the rear door of 207. And you need to contact the Transit Officer here in Ballarat as well as the local police.' He listened to the buzzing voice, 'Okay, will do. Porter Smith is calming everyone down and I'll see to everything here and report back. Over.'

Over the train intercom came three gonging notes and the announcement that 'All passengers please resume your assigned seats. There will be short delay in disembarking. Country Rail apologises for the inconvenience and we will have you on your way shortly'

Turning to the passengers in compartment 4, Conductor Crane said gravely, 'I am sorry to have to delay you and make you sit here like this. As soon as the Doctor and Police arrive we can clear the rest of the train. But all of you will need to remain behind and make a statement to the Transit and Local police. We will move you all to a waiting room as soon as possible.'

There was grumbling over this instruction, although the lad seemed quite excited and curious about the dead woman and what would happen next. 'Strewth! This is better than a Phantom comic!' He was thinking.

The two businessmen seemed especially put out and one muttered something about 'being delayed over the death of an old bat who had obviously been on this earth too long…' The Conductor glared them into silence with a terse 'have some respect!'.

Faintly the passengers could hear the announcement on the platform, 'Paging Doctor Blake. Doctor Blake please report to Carriage 207. Paging Doctor Blake.'

Looking around the compartment the Conductor admonished 'Don't touch anything! I'll be right back' and turned away down the passage. He could hear them all immediately starting to chatter among themselves, but it couldn't be helped, he had nowhere to put them yet and this was protocol. Ignoring curious passengers peering out of the doors of the other compartments as he went, he rushed down the passage to greet Doctor Blake at the door.

…

Lucien had been lounging about on one of the wooden platform seats reading a paper when the Ballarat express pulled in. He noticed immediately that there seemed to be no first-class carriage and he wondered if Jean told him the right time and train. Folding the newspaper, he stood up and watched anxiously as the train pulled to a stop. He waited. The train doors didn't seem to be opening. Getting concerned he strode towards the front of the train peering into the windows looking for Jean as he passed by. Then to his astonishment he heard his name being paged.

' _Doctor Blake please report to Carriage 207_ '

With his heart in his mouth he rushed to the front end where carriage 207 was. Had something happened to Jean? As he hurried forward he saw the carriage door open and a man in a conductor's uniform beckoned him in.

'Doctor Blake?'

'Yes! My wife! Is she okay!' said Lucien in a panic.

'Fine, Mrs. Blake is fine.' Soothed Conductor Crane. 'But it appears there has been a death in her compartment and I need you to assist. The Transit and local police have been notified and will be here shortly. Please, follow me.'

They passed Bert Smith who was standing guard in the doorway alcove stopping passengers from trying to leave and Crane instructed him to carry on and wait there for the Police. Leading the way, Blake followed Crane down the corridor to the middle compartment number 4. Crane slid compartment 4 door open and turned to Blake saying 'In here please, Doctor.'

Blake's first thought was for his wife, not the dead woman. He looked over at Jean and smiled. 'Okay?' he questioned. Jean nodded. She was fine, if a bit pale.

At that moment Bert returned with the Transit Patrol Officer in tow. He was a man of short stature and tried to stand as straight as possible to seem taller. 'What's all this then? Crane! Why are these passengers still here? And who is this?' he indicated Blake.

Crane looked down at TPO Frank Anders. Anders was not Cranes' favourite person in the world. 'Following protocol Sir. Waiting for you and your instructions to clear the carriages of other passengers. This is Doctor Blake who has agreed to attend the death.'

Anders blustered a bit. 'Well, I'm here now! Call the engine room and get the doors open so the passengers can leave. We cannot hold the train up, it has to return to Melbourne within the hour!'

'Is that wise?' asked Blake mildly. 'Won't you want to interview…'

'No!' interrupted Anders. 'No need. We have a full passenger list of everyone if we need to contact them. Only the people in this compartment and our staff are of any interest in this. Hurry up Crane and get everyone else out. Move this lot into the compartment next door when you have done that.'

Blake glanced at Jean and gave her a 'look'. Who was this idiot? Jean just looked back and just raised an eyebrow. While he waited for the main carriage to clear, Blake studied compartment 4 and its occupants. He looked at each person in turn, noting everything. As he did so he could hear the other carriage compartments emptying around him and the excited speculation of the departing passengers. Then Crane returned and informed Anders that the compartment next door was now free and that the local police had arrived on scene.

'Hurrumph.' Grunted Anders. 'Well, better let the plods in. And get that imbecile Smith to move this lot to the next compartment.'

Conductor Crane left to attend to the police and Bert Smith began to usher the passengers from Compartment 4 into Compartment 3. The Stock Agent reached up to take his valise when Blake stopped him with a gesture,

'No, leave all your luggage please for the time being. I am sorry, but the Police will need everything left on the scene. I am sure they will return it to you shortly.' Muttering and grumbling everyone moved out of the carriage. Blake gave Jean a little pat and kiss on the cheek as she passed him.

Blake turned to view the now empty carriage. Empty that is of course, for the body of Elizabeth Peterson and Anders standing belligerently in the centre. As he looked about, he heard the 'thump-thump' of Chief Inspector Lawson's cane on the corridor floor. Anders moved further into the compartment to make room for Lawson and Senior Sergeant Davis. He looked at the local police with disdain.

'And you are?'

Calmly Lawson looked at the little man. 'Chief Inspector Lawson and Senior Sergeant Davis. You?'

Puffing his chest out, Anders replied, 'Senior Transport Police Officer Anders. I have authority for all matters pertaining to incidents on the train. You'll report to me, so, don't mess about man! I have a train to run. Clean this mess up and report back to me within the hour. I'll be in the Station Masters' office. Chop-chop!' turning on his heel he stomped off.

'What an officious little twat' muttered Charlie. Blake grinned.

'Davis,' said Lawson warningly, 'we have to work with these railway rent-a-cops, so just be happy he didn't want to hang around and try and help.' Turning to Blake he said, 'Lucien, what have we got?'

Lucien bent over the body and began a careful visual examination. 'I can see no obvious signs of trauma or blood on the deceased. No twisting of limbs, no facial contortions, in fact, she seems to be smiling slightly.' Blake moved the body to an upright position, carefully moving her head and neck, then returning her to the prone position. 'The body is still in a state of primary flaccidity. Slight signs of rigor mortis occurring in the neck and jaw indicating that the deceased died between 2 and 5 hours previously. I would estimate she died somewhere between 3.30 and 4.30 this afternoon. But I will need to do an autopsy to confirm the cause of death.'

Sergeant Davis had begun to search Elizabeth's handbag and parcels. He found nothing of interest in his inspection except a small black diary. Flipping through he came to that days' date and commented, 'She had an appointment in the City today. It says 'Doctor, 9.20am'. He continued to flip through the book until he came to the address section in the rear. 'I'll get Ned to check through all the phone numbers here and try and find out who the doctor was and what she was seeing him for.'

'Right' said Lawson. 'We will need to search all this luggage and bags as well. Charlie, see if you can arrange with the porter to have them moved. As well, call the ambos and get the body to the morgue.'

Bert Smith poked his head in the doorway. He looked at the men, then stammered out, 'S-sirs, Mr. Crane s-says we can move all the passengers to the station waiting room now. The S-Sation Master has agreed you can use his office for interviews.'

Blake looked at the young porter kindly. 'Thank you, son. Will you and Mr. Crane organise that for us? Sergeant Davis here will help you.' Bert looked at Blake. Bert was pale and obviously disturbed.

'You seem quite upset,' commented Blake to Bert. 'Did you know her?'

Bert started, his eyes like a myxo rabbit. 'Never seen a dead 'un before. She travelled on the train a lot. I recognised her.' He stopped, took a deep breath and vehemently stated, 'I hated her and I'm glad she's dead!'


	3. Chapter 3

Murder on the Ballarat Express: Chapter 3

…

Bert looked at Blake fearfully after his passionate declaration. Lawson watched on with interest. Blake was calm and soothing, 'It's okay son. Why don't you show us to the office now? You can tell us all about it there.'

With a grateful look at Blake, Bert lead them out of the compartment and carriage to meet with Crane and the 7 waiting passengers on the platform. Crane indicated to Bert and said 'Go back inside Bert and get all that luggage moved to the waiting room.'

Lawson glanced behind him at the carriage worriedly, saying quietly to Charlie, 'I don't like the idea of leaving the scene and all that luggage unattended. Get Ned to sit with it and watch Bert move it. Make sure nothing is interfered with. Ned should search it in the waiting room while you join us at the interviews.' Charlie nodded and went in search of Constable Ned Simmons who had been stationed at the end of the train to observe the departing passengers.

Lead by Crane, the group trooped into the waiting room. Crane settled the passengers, arranging for cups of tea to be brought to them, then turned to the waiting Blake and Lawson with a 'This way Sirs' showed them to the Station Masters Office. He knocked on the door and was bid to enter.

Behind a large oak desk Station Master James Faulks sat like a prince on his throne. Where Anders was short and officious, Faulks was large and expansive. He welcomed Lawson and Blake into his kingdom with an open armed gesture saying 'Gentlemen! Please! Be seated. Faulks is the name, trains are my game! Will you have tea?' Blake and Lawson introduced themselves and took their seats across from the big man's desk.

From the corner Anders made a noise and said 'Sir! We don't have time for niceties. We need to get the train serviced and returned or else we lose our standing in the 'on-time service' records!'

Casting an eye rolling look at Lawson and Blake, Faulks responded, 'Don't get your knickers in a twist Anders. They can drink while they talk to the passengers. We have a 15-minute window of time in our scheduling. Call up for tea, man!'

Snarling, Anders made a call on the phone and as he did so Charlie knocked on the office door and let himself in. More introductions were made. Some chairs were shuffled around to arrange the most comfortable arrangement for everyone. It was agreed by all (and a satisfied grunt by Anders) that they would interview the train staff first to allow the them to return as quickly as possible to their work and get the train back to Melbourne. Lawson indicated to Charlie, who returned to the waiting room and came back with Phillip Crane.

Lawson gestured to Crane to take the waiting seat. He did so nervously. Observing this Lawson said, 'This is just a statement Mr. Crane. We are trying to establish the circumstances of this unfortunate incident. Your statement and the statements of all the others will need to be included in the report to the Transit Police and Victorian Police. Just tell us in your own words your name, profession, where you live and what contact you may have had with Elizabeth Peterson today.' Lawson intended to say the same speech to all the others as well and was pleased to see that it seemed to calm Crane down.  
….

Statement of Phillip Crane

'My name is Phillip Crane. I am a Train Conductor for the Victorian Country Rail Line. I live in Wendouree. Usually I work the day train, Ballarat to Melbourne and back again 2 times a day. Its a good job and I like it. Have been doing it for over 19 years now, almost have the gold watch, eh, Mr Faulks? Anyway, Mrs Peterson is a ,er, was a regular passenger on the line. Usually she went into the city maybe once a week. Sometimes twice. Always first class. What's that Dr. Blake? Was she well liked? Well, no, I cannot say she was. In fact, some of the staff would request shift changes or carriage changes if they found out she was on their run. Why? Well, she was wasn't pleasant to deal with. Like today. The first class carriage broke down and had to be put in the yards at Melbourne and they only had an old S type, second class as replacement. Mrs. Peterson acted like it was my fault she had to ride in second class. Wasn't going to go in a second class car she said. So I told her, politely of course, that was her decision, but we couldn't refund her ticket and she may not get a seat on the next train. Hooliee Dooliee but she said some ripe things! Didn't know the lady knew such words. But she got on. Young Smith helped her and she gave him an earful too. Especially when she saw she was in a middle seat, not a window. But we couldn't do anything about that, not anymore, not since head office took over seat allocation. Well, with all due respect Mr. Anders, sometimes we know our passengers better. Regulars, see, have preferences. But, be that as it may, Smith got her settled and seated at last. I saw her again when I came 'round and checked all the tickets just out of Footscray. She was still complaining. My lord that woman could whinge. Didn't see her again till after we went through Ardeer Station. I passed her in the passage as she went for a cup of tea in the buffet. She always had a tea and biscuit, but lord knows why as she always said the tea was vile and service appalling. Anyway, I didn't see her, alive I mean, after that. I had to attend to an incident with the missing first aid box. Yes Mr. Faulks, I've reported it. The box was broken into and raided of everything. No, haven't found who did it, but it needs to be restocked before we return to Melbourne. That was around Bacchus Marsh. Then I had to sort the carriages out for our arrival, check the toilets, clear the buffet, all that. Next I knew we were arriving in Bathurst and there was a heck of a scream from compartment 4. I ran to see what was going on and when I got there I found that tall bloke, Mr. Fletcher, I think he is, leaning over Mrs. Peterson. I could see she was dead right away. No Dr. Blake, I didn't touch her, but she was dead. Seen that look before. So I followed all the protocols and here we are. I guess that's it. Can I go now? Thank you Inspector Lawson... but just one thing, can you go a bit easy on young Smith? No need to snort Mr. Anders. He can't help being a Legacy kid. He's a good lad and he's had it tough enough, losing his dad in the war and helping his mum with the family. He is a very hard worker and willing. And very grateful to you Mr. Faulks and Legacy for getting him this job. Oh, okay Mr. Faulks, I'll get back to it.

...

With that Charlie escorted Crane out and returned with a jittery Bert Smith who had finished bringing all the luggage over from the train. Gently Lawson repeated his request. Bert looked fearfully over to Blake for reassurance, who nodded gently back at him and said 'It's okay, son, just tell us about today.' With a shuddering breath, Bert began to speak.

...

Statement of Bertram Smith

Me name's Bertram Smith. But most calls me Bert. Or Smithy. Mr. Anders there calls me Dickhead. Well you do Mr. Anders and you shouldn't, should he Mr. Faulks? Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I lives in Ballarat with me Mam and I work as a Porter on the trains. Mr. Crane is me boss and he's right good to me. Says I could be a conductor some day. Well he does too, Mr. Anders! ... Thanks Dr. Blake, I appreciates that. Anyways, we was stuck in town 'cause the bogie on the first was bust. Then they got us a second and Mr. Crane says we have to move all the first people into it. That was a right mess! We had the seat list sent down and most people are pretty good about where they gets put, but some are right difficult. And we can't moves them about anymore to suit them. Yes, that Mrs. Peterson, the dead 'un, she was mad as a cut snake about being in second! She told off Mr. Crane something awful. Then I had to help her with her bags and parcels. No, she wasn't nice about it, said mean things as usual to me, specially about her seat. Always has been mean to me as long as I knowed her. Oh, yes Mr. Inspector, I knows her from being a kiddy. She and her snooty church group used ta bring Mam food and sneer at us for being so poor and needy-like. Wasn't Mam's fault Da got blown up in the war! Soon as I could I got a job here as a trainee so's I could help Mam and the kids. But that Mrs. Peterson was always having a go at us, saying things like 'gutter-snipe' and 'snot-nose' and 'trash' to me and Mam! Oh, righty-oh, when did I next saw her? It was when she was in the buffet. May, that's the lady who works at the buffet, she asked me to help out because Nancy, that's the serving girl who is ever so nice, called in sick and she needed me to help. I had to help serve the teas. I got Mrs. Peterson a tea and her biscuit and brung it to her where she was sitting. Then she called me back and told me the tea was really bad and she needed more sugar than two packets. So I brought her some more and she had 5 packets of sugar in her tea! Then I served some other people their tea and some got beers and things. She yelled at that kid once for bumping her table. I guess she went back to her seat as I didn't saw her again until later when she was dead. Yes Sir, the last time I sees her alive was in the buffet. And I know it aint Christian to say it, but I was right-glad to see that mean old lady dead like that! Well I am Mr. Faulks! I'm sorrry, but I am, and that's that.

...

'Well, we had better have May in next,' announced Faulks. 'Then we can get the train moving.'

'About bloody time,' muttered Anders.

'Fine, bring her in Sergeant Davis,' responded Lawson. Charlie took Bert out and returned with May.

...

Statement of May Davidson

I am May Davidson of 42 Grant Street, Golden Point. I work in Catering on the Buffet car for Victorian Country Rail Lines. I was a RANN in the war and this job suits me, much less stress. The only time I saw Mrs. Peterson today was when she came into the car to have a cup of tea. I got her tea ready with the arrowroot biscuits she likes and asked young Bert Smith to carry it to her table. I was busy, there were lots of customers at the counter. Bert came back and said she needed more sugar, so I gave him extra packets and he delivered them to her. I was busy with other customers as Nancy called in sick. When she ordered her tea was the only time I saw her. What did I think of her, Inspector? I tried to have as little to do with her as possible. I used to smile and say g'day to her but she was always so rude I decided she wasn't worth my time or effort. So I never spoke to her aymore. That is really all I can tell you. It's a shame she died on the train, but I for one won't miss her.

...

'Hmmm. It appears she was not well liked,' mused Blake as Charlie lead May out.

'Well that's stating the bleeding obvious' responded Anders. 'Can we get the train moving again? If we don't pull out in 15 we have to reschedule the entire line.'

Lawson sighed and replied, 'If you must, but make sure I have the full passenger list delivered to me this afternoon.'

'Now that the Train staff have been interviewed, I need to get back to running the trains' said Faulks. 'You can use this office as Anders and I have some things to take care of over on Platform 1. Have to get that med kit sorted. But I think you can interview the passengers without us being here. If I could have a report of their statements I would appreciate it. Would that be okay with you Chief Inspector?'

'Perfectly' responded Lawson. With that Anders and Faulks left the office letting the professionals get on with their work.

...


	4. Chapter 4

Murder on the Ballarat Express: Chapter 4

…

All the men gave a little sigh of relief when Anders and Faulks had gone.

'None of those train folk seemed to really care about someone dying on their train, did they?' Charlie spoke out loud what they were all thinking. 'It's as though the most important thing is to keep to the schedule, file a report and dead people don't matter as long as the train runs on time.'

'Well it mattered enough to them to call Metro Police head office in Melbourne and demand that I come down to investigate and attend the interviews!' Lawson was peeved as he really felt his time would be better spent elsewhere.

'Well, I guess it's important to Railway and their relationship with Metro' said Blake, 'and don't forget that there are hundreds of people that are affected if a train is delayed or cancelled. That would have to cause them problems in town. But it is odd, as we are not sure how or why Mrs. Peterson has died yet. It could have just been her time to go naturally.'

Just then Constable Ned Simmons poked his head through the door with a 'Sir?'

Lawson grunted 'Yes?'

'I have finished inspecting the luggage and have notes of the contents,' he waved some sheaves of papers in one hand. Lawson nodded his approval. 'And Dr. Harvey has called. She says to tell Dr. Blake that the body is ready for him in the morgue to "attend at his leisure" - that's her exact words.'

Blake gave a wry smile and turned to Lawson. 'I'd like to get this cleared up as soon as I can. You don't really need me here for these interviews do you?'

Lawson shook his head 'no'.

'Do you mind if you take Jean's statement next? Then I can drop her home and head to the morgue still this evening.'

'That would be fine Lucien. The sooner we get done here the sooner we can all go home,' responded Lawson. 'Ned, ask Mrs. Blake to come in next please.'

'Oh, and Ned,' called out Blake. 'Call Dr. Harvey and tell her I'll be there within the hour.' Ned scuttled off.

...

Statement of Jean Blake

'Well gentlemen, you all know who I am and where I live: Jean Blake, of Ballarat. I am Dr. Blake's wife and receptionist. I really don't have much to tell you all. There was a problem at Spencer Street with the train and we were put into a second class carriage. Elizabeth Peterson was most upset and let everyone know it. Yes Matthew, I knew Elizabeth. No, we were not friends by any stretch of the imagination! The woman had gone out of her way to make life difficult for Lucien and me. I found it was better if I just stayed out of her way. So I wasn't too happy to have to share the compartment with her. She made a few nasty comments (it's all right Lucien) when she entered and when I was speaking to Peter Grady who was sitting opposite me. Yes, I knew some of the other passengers; I am aquainted with Betty Scott and her son Ben, they both would come to church on occasion and we would talk. I have seen the tall gentleman around town at the Stock Agent's office but I do not know his name. Peter Grady of course. But the two men nearest the door I have never met, although one looks a bit familiar. No, Matthew, I did _not_ speak with Elizabeth. In fact, when Peter left to go to the buffet I decided to try and have a nap. So I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep and eventually did doze off for a time, waking at Bacchus Marsh when the train stopped briefly. Yes, I was vaguely aware that people were getting up and coming back but I really didn't take notice much when or who. I am sorry I cannot be anymore help, but I really did not see or hear anything. Can Lucien take me home now Matthew? I am really very tired and need to get dinner on if any of you want a meal tonight!'

...

Driving home with Lucien, Jean was very quiet in the car. Lucien was concerned and asked softly, 'Are you alright, love? This has been a terrible day for you.'

Jean gave a sighing laugh. 'Actually Lucien, I was thinking about the new dress I was going to make, trying to take my mind off Elizabeth. She was such an unhappy person and tried to make everyone around her as unhappy as she was. She was a thoroughly unpleasant person. But I didn't think she was sick. In fact, she always struck me as one of those types that live forever enjoying the bile and misery that they spread.'

Blake glanced at Jean in surprise. Jean was a keen observer of people and their foibles but seldom made negative judgements about them.

Jean sighed again. 'I guess I feel bad because I don't feel _bad_ about her dying. You don't really know the horrible things she was saying about us, even after we were married. _Especially_ after we married.'

Blake pulled into the driveway of their home, stopped the car and turned to Jean, grasping her hand. 'I am sorry Jean. I know I have put you through some terrible things. But I thought it was getting better. Now we are married, I thought people were accepting it and the gossip had stopped.'

With a shake of her head and a wry chuckle Jean said, 'Lucien, this is BALLARAT. They _never_ stop gossiping! But it _is_ better. Much better.' And Jean leaned forward and kissed Blake gently. 'And as long as you are here with me it is getting better every day.' Then she turned and got out of the car. 'Don't worry Lucien. I hate to say it, but one less gossip in my life is a blessing! Get on about your work and give me a call to let me know when you will be home for dinner.'

He watched her stride up the drive, savouring every moment of her walk. Then he started the car, reversed down the drive and headed to the Morgue.

...

Blake entered the morgue to find a disgruntled and surly Alice Harvey waiting for him.

'You DO know what time it is, don't you Lucien?'

He looked at her with that bemused look that drove her nuts. 'I am sorry Alice. I asked Ned to call you and tell you I would be a little while. I had to take Jean home.'

'Well, they don't pay me over-time you know,' she grumbled, somewhat mollified by his apology but not prepared to let him think she was letting him off scot free.

Blake looked down at the table at the sheet covered body. 'Well, the sooner we start the sooner we are done.' And he reached over and carefully turned the sheet down. He looked at the dead woman considering all that he had heard so far.

'I have already taken the bloods,' commented Alice.

'Good Alice. Thank you.'

'It's going to be so much easier and faster now that the new Tyneman wing for pathology has opened here at the hospital. No more waiting on Melbourne!'

'Yes.' said Blake sourly. While he was happy about the new lab here in Ballarat his enjoyment was somewhat marred by the thought of Patrick Tyneman being involved in the financing and it being named after him.

Turning back to the corpse Blake looked down at her and spoke to her compassionately, 'Now why did you die like that? Everyone has told me you were to mean to die, what has happened to you?'

With his hands he gently rotated the head and neck. 'Hmmmm. Alice, I think she may have died mid-afternoon today. When I examined her earlier rigor had only just begun.'

'Yes,' she agreed. 'Secondary rigor has not yet progressed. So your timing may well be correct.'

Moving down the torso, Blake gently felt the upper arms, joints and hands. 'Look at this swelling in the joints. It is quite severe. It appears she was suffering from quite an advanced case of rheumatoid arthritis.' Blake leaned forward and carefully prised open an eyelid.

'Hand me the small torch, please Alice,' and he held out his hand. Alice placed the penlight into his waiting hand. He turned it on and shone it into the open eye. Peering closely he nodded and said, 'See here? She has early stage cataracts.'

'Well that could be due to her age, she was not a young woman. At least in her 70's.'

'True, but it is also is common in rheumatoid arthritis.'

Alice considered. 'She is very underweight. People with RA often lose their appetite.'

'Here, help me turn the body, Alice.' And both doctors gently but firmly turned the corpse over so they could view the back.

'Yes, see here in the neck and lower back?', Alice pointed, 'See how the neck appears fused, the spine is curved and the inflammation around the coccyx? I believe you are correct in your diagnosis Doctor.'

Blake looked carefully at Elizabeth's back. Picking up the penlight again he shone it over the right shoulder region. With a bit of a 'hmmm', he turned and positioned the large flexible magnifying glass over the shoulder area. 'A small puncture wound in the shoulder joint. It looks like an injection site.'

Alice turned to the carefully folded clothing on the bench. Lifting up the blouse Elizabeth had been wearing she pointed out to Blake a small blood spot that corresponded to position of the injection site on the shoulder. Alice held the blouse up to the light, 'I cannot see any puncture holes in the fabric. But it is difficult to tell, this is a nylon top and the weave is fairly open and flexible. A needle could go through and not damage the fabric.'

They looked down at Elizabeth together and considered. 'I think we need to ask them to rush the blood, Alice. Let's see how well Patrick's new lab performs! I'd like it tested for RA and for any indicators of poisons or drugs.' Blake indicated to Alice to assist him in turning. They carefully rotated Elizabeth onto her back. Blake picked up a scalpel and looking at Alice said, 'Let us begin.'

...

It was after 9 when Blake returned home. Jean was waiting for him in the lounge room. Matthew and Charlie were still working. She looked up at him as he entered and smiled. Blake leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. 'You look tired, Lucien,' commented Jean.

'Yes. Long day, and no result.' He turned to the drinks cabinet to pour out a whiskey but Jean stopped him with a caution.

'You need to eat something first, please Lucien. I've kept it warm for you.'

Blake sighed and turned to look at Jean pleadingly. She was right he knew, but he needed the burn of the whisky in his belly to chase away the feeling of failure of the autopsy. They had found no reason for the sudden death of Elizabeth and now had to wait on the blood-work. Jean just raised an eyebrow at him.

'Very well,' he acceded. And marched into the kitchen with bad grace, muttering slightly under his breath. Jean rose and followed him. She stood in the doorway and watched him take the foil covered plate out of the oven and place it roughly on the table. Before he could seat himself she walked over to him, put her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Blake felt the tension seep out of his bones as he relaxed into her embrace. As they drew apart Jean looked up at him and said, 'If you really need a drink, I won't try and stop you.'

Sheepishly Blake looked down at her. 'No, you are right, I'll have something to eat first. And anyway, that was better than any whisky.' He leaned forward, kissed her again, then broke away and sat down to eat his dinner while Jean watched on in satisfaction.


	5. Chapter 5

**Murder on the Ballarat Express: 5**

….

As Blake and Alice began their autopsy in the morgue, Chief Inspector Lawson and Senior Sergeant Charlie Davis continued their interviews assisted by Constable Ned Simmons. Concerned over the lateness of the hour, Lawson felt it best to interview Betty Scott and her son, Ben next. Because Ben was still a minor he needed a parent or guardian in attendance during the interview so Lawson felt he could kill two birds with one stone.

….

 **Statement of Betty Scott**

I am Betty Scott, wife to John Scott and mother to Ben here. We all live here in Ballarat. I am a housewife. Ben and me had to go into the City today to sign a few papers. You know all about that Chief Inspector, you signed Ben's good behaviour report for me last week. The Juvenile authorities were very pleased with your report! Thank you so much for that Mr. Lawson, I cannot tell you what it means to John, me and my boy. Yes, it is good news, they are not going to put him into care, he can stay with me and John, as long as he stays out of trouble! Isn't that right Ben, you're going to be good, I can count on you, right? Stop squirming. Oh, about that Elizabeth Peterson. You know she was one of the ones who complained to the Juvenile authorities about Ben, right Mr. Lawson? No love lost there between her and me, one broken window and so much trouble! So, when we got on the train and then she came and sat right opposite me I wasn't best pleased. Ben was right good and didn't say a word to her. No, I didn't speak either, even though she said nasty things about our tomato sandwiches. Me and Ben sat there quiet as mice. She got up to go to the buffet car. Then I thought that Ben was being so good that we would go the buffet too. He could have a lemonade spider, a special treat I thought seeings as he was being so well behaved. Well, it was so crowded in the buffet! I had to stand in the queue for ages. Ben here said he needed to go to the gents, so I let him go while I waited. It's at the far end of the buffet you know so you have to walk right through. He wasn't gone long and by the time he got back I had his drink. As he was walking back, I guess the train lurched or something because poor Ben must have knocked Elizabeth's table. She threatened him! She did! She said she would report him and get him sent away. Ben was so good, he looked at me but didn't say nothing, just kept walking. We sat on the table as far away from her as we could and when Ben finished his drink we went back to our seats. Elizabeth came in just after us and sat down. If looks could kill me and Ben would be stone dead! I just ignored her and did my knitting and Ben read his comic. Then I see she had fallen asleep. When we got into Ballarat she was still sleeping. That nice Jean Blake that was Mrs. Beazley before looked at me. I knew she didn't want to have to wake Elizabeth, so's I reached over and shook her shoulder like. She just fell over! Fell over dead! I just screamed and Ben held me and then you came and here we are.

….

 **Statement of Ben Scott**

Strewth, I don't know what to say! We was just sitting there in our seats and that old bat, sorry Mum, that Mrs. Peterson came in. I don't know why I have to talk respectable about her Mum! She was ragging on you the whole time! Yes Chief, I know. And I thanks you, you were ace to say those nice things about me. But that Mrs. Peterson was… okay Mum. (sighs) Righty-oh. We sat there and had our sam'iches then Mum said I could have spider in the buffet. Mum's a brick! There was this big queue at the counter and I had to go take a whizz, oh sorry Mum, go to the gents and Mum said I could. So I went to the gents, then I stood on that connecting bit between the cars and looked at the tracks rushing under my feet, ever so ace! Those two blokes from our compartment, one of 'em used the gents too and then they had a smoko. They gave me a puff, too. Yeah, sorry Mum, but it was just a little puff. They said to hop it so I left but I had to pass Mrs. Peterson on the way back, fair dinkum, I swear she stuck her foot out or something to make me trip! Really Mum! The train wasn't that rough. She said some things to me but I remembered what Mum said about turning the other cheek and I just walked past. I had my drink with Mum and we went and sat down again. I read my Phantom, I really want a dog just like Devil! Dad says I can someday, maybe this year Mum? And then we were home and Mum tried to wake up Mrs. Peterson and she just fell over dead! Ace! (sighs) Yes Mum, I know, but I am not real sorry she's dead and she can't cause us any more trouble now, eh?

…..

Lawson thanked the pair for their help, shaking young Ben's hand and advising him to keep staying out of trouble. Charlie lead them out into the waiting room where the loud business man insisted that he go next as he had appointments to keep, so Charlie acceded and brought him through, followed after by his associate.

…

 **Statement of Frank Mersey**

My names' Frank Mersey and I am in charge of New Clients and Accounts at the Golden Square Insurance and Savings Company of Ballarat, Bendigo and Castlemaine. I live in Castlemaine, but my associate Robert Holmes and I had been in the City for a conference. All about maximising your options for your retirement, investments and life insurance. Maybe I can interest you in a brochure Chief? No? You know you need to plan now. Later maybe? Well, we had booked first-class, but typical Vic Rail they stuffed up again and we were put into a second-class compartment. Rob and I were opposite each other. The dead lady was two over from Rob. No, Chief, I never saw her before. I don't do the Ballarat run much, but Rob wanted to show me the office here and meet some clients. Well, we got up for a smoko once or twice during the trip. Um, twice I think. They make you smoke out on the gangways now. That young lad came and joined us once and bummed a ciggie off Rob. Nice little tryer that one, he'll go far if he doesn't end up in jail first. We passed the lady after the second smoko coming back through the buffet. No, didn't speak to her, but she was having a few words with that young larrikin and then she was busy complaining to everyone in the buffet about how awful the tea was. She was having a right proper whinge. I felt a bit sorry for the porter serving her. We were going to get a beer, but decided that the company in there was not so pleasant, so came back to our seats and talked about business. She came back, still whinging, sat down and fell asleep. It was nice to hear her shut up, I tell you! Then we got to Ballarat and found she was dead. That's about all I can tell you, unless you are interested in our new short-term interest plans? No? Well tell Rob I'll wait for him outside, I'm gasping for a fag.

…

 **Statement of Robert Holmes**

I'm Robert Holmes. I'm an Insurance agent with the Golden Square Insurance and Savings Company. I live here and work at the Ballarat branch. Not much to tell you really. You probably have already heard everyone tell you about the carriage change. Frank Mersey is my boss and he sat opposite me. We talked a bit about policies and such. Went to have a smoke twice. I used the loo once. Gave a kid a fag. Did I know Elizabeth Peterson? Not really. I had seen her come into the office once or twice. I think she has an account with us but she wasn't my client and we didn't ever speak. Yes, I saw her in the buffet car when we passed through. No, no one sat with her. She chewed out the kid and was rabbiting on about her tea tasting awful. She gave that young porter a stiff time of it. I saw the Conductor running about second time we had a smoke. Running back and forth, asking about a medical kit or something. Didn't have a clue what he was on about so we went back to the compartment and just sat talking until we got into Ballarat. There was no one else to talk to. Just a bunch of Ballarat hicks although there was one real looker by the window. But she was asleep too, just like the dead lady. We got in on time, but then they found that woman dead and we have been waiting around to talk to you about it. Like I said, I don't know anything about her or her dying like that. Can I go?

…

Leading Robert Holmes from the office, Charlie returned with Peter Grady.

...

 **Statement of Peter Grady**

Stone the bloody crows! Matthew Bloody Lawson as I live and breath! It's been donkey's years. You've moved up in the world, eh? Chief Inspector now! Good to see you , mate! And who's this? Sergeant Charlie Davis, doesn't he scrub up pretty in his nice uniform? Righty-oh, let's get on with this. Me name's Peter Grady. I live out past Ballarat on the Bendigo Road, I got about 500 acres and it's a tidy little paddock. I run a few hundred head of sheep there and some fat calves. Was in town today to have a talk to the shearer's union about next season. I want some decent blokes this time, not that bunch of layabouts they sent last year. Came back on the afternoon train. We all got stuck in second-class. They put that horrible woman Elizabeth Peterson next to me. You remember how nasty she was to my Narelle before she died. Told her that her cancer was a judgement from God for marrying me. And she tried to ban me from church after saying I wasn't truely a Catholic. Yeah, I know I was never confirmed but I always went with Narelle and the Priest don't mind me being there. Well, today was a judgement from God, I say! No Matthew, I didn't talk with her, I wouldn't give her the time of day. Spoke a bit with the lovely Jean, congratulated her on her marriage to that Blake fellow. Seems a decent bloke, not afraid of a drink I hear. Anyway, that cow Peterson never stopped carping at us, so as soon as the buffet gong went I left and got a beer. Came back once to grab some more cash from my bag then went back and had a pie and another beer. Yar, saw her in the buffet, up the other end she was. She was giving curry to whoever got near her. I had to get past her once to get to the gents but she was too busy sniping at the porter to notice me. She had left when I came back, so I finished my beer. When I got back to the compartment she was asleep thank god, so was Jean. So I put my head down for a bit of kip meself. Didn't know much else till we got into Ballarat and I woke to that woman shrieking and Elizabeth dead. Judgement of God I say. Good seeing you again mate, let's catch up with a beer soon, eh?

...

Grady left the room of his own accord. After that statement Lawson felt like he had run the city to surf marathon. Charlie looked at him in sympathy. 'Nearly done boss, just one left',

Lawson sighed. 'And then we have to write it all up. Bring him in.'

...

 **Statement of Bruce Fletcher**

I work for the Ballarat Stock Agents, my name is Bruce Fletcher. I live in Ballarat and work as an auctioneer at the Ballarat Sales Yard. Also buy and sell stock for the local graziers. I was down in Melbourne for the past week visiting my sister. She has just had a baby and I wanted to meet my nephew. No, I did not know Elizabeth Peterson at all, except by sight and reputation. My sister had had problems with her when she was living in Ballarat. She never talks about it, but the woman was responsible for her deciding to move to Melbourne. But, water under the bridge, she is happily married now with a lovely baby. So anyway, I was sitting next to Mrs Peterson. I didn't talk to her, but I never talk to people on trains anyway. Not unless I know them. And even then it can be difficult, they always want inside information on stock prices and free advice. I got up at the same time she did to go to the buffet. She ordered tea and I had a scotch. She let me know that demon drink would be my downfall. Which I thought was rather funny really, considering. She didn't much like me laughing at her. Anyway I had my scotch then went back to the compartment and read. She came back after me, sat down and seemed to go to sleep. No, I didn't notice anything unusual, I was just glad she had stopped talking so I could concentrate on my paper. So it wasn't until we got into Ballarat and I got up to get my luggage when I realised she wasn't waking up. The lady opposite tried to wake her, but Mrs Peterson just fell over. There was a lot of screaming and I tried to feel for a pulse but there was nothing. I know animals and I know how to tell if someone is dead. And she was dead. Dead as doornail.

...

After Fletcher left Lawson and Charlie collected their notes and papers. Rising up stiffly from his chair Lawson leaned heavily on his cane. Looking at Charlie he said, 'Go tell Ned to run and find the Station Master and tell him we have finished here. Then he can come back to the station to help us with all this. I'll need you to drive me back, thanks, Charlie.'

Charlie nodded and went to give Ned his instructions. He and Lawson then made there way back to the Police station for a late night's work.

...


	6. Chapter 6

Murder on the Ballarat Express: 6

…

It was well after 8 am when Charlie and Lawson appeared for breakfast. Having already eaten, Jean and Lucien were just straightening up the kitchen when the two men surfaced, both looking a little worse for wear after their long night in the station house. The Blakes had only been married a few short months and both men were still residing with them. Jean had felt it would have been churlish to have asked them to leave and Lucien enjoyed their company. Jean too liked having them around, it felt like having her two boys back in the house with them, they were like a family. Charlie however had begun to feel a bit restless in Ballarat and was making queries into promotions and transfers to a Melbourne station. Lawson enjoyed staying with the Blakes but didn't want to be a third wheel. He was waiting for Alice to finally make a decision and that seemed to be taking her some time!

'Rough night?' asked Blake.

'Just a lot of bloody paper-work. And in triplicate! For the VicRail people, the Metro office and our records. A load of extra work we don't need.' grumped Lawson.

'You need a cuppa,' soothed Jean and proceeded to pour a strong black tea for each of the men. 'Breakfast as well?'

'No, thanks Jean. Charlie and I will pick up a bun or something on the way. Just this tea to get the heart started and then we have to rush back. Still have to file all those bloody reports!'

'I'll be in later this morning to check on the reports back from the Lab with Alice. Will come in and let you know.' responded Blake. 'I have 2 or 3 patients to see this morning and I have to put my best face on.'

'Well, it's good to see the surgery picking up again' commented Charlie.

'Only a matter of time, really, Lucien is the best doctor in town' said Jean with pride and a bit smugly, 'Everyone has finally begun to realise he isn't the drunk the divorce papers made him out to be.'

'Also, old Dr Brown finally retiring didn't hurt either,' said Blake wryly. Jean just rolled her eyes at Lawson who gave a cheeky smile back at them both.

...

Blake strode into the morgue with a cheerful hum. Things were looking up at the surgery at last and that made Jean happy. A happy Jean meant a happy Blake. Alice was standing by the report desk turning a large, thick envelope over in her hands.

'Good Morning Alice! Got the test reports I see.'

'Yes. I think they did every test they could just to try out all the new equipment. Look at it all! The Ballarat phone directory isn't this thick.' said Alice with a touch of vinegar.

'More likely they were trying to impress the formidable Dr Alice Harvey,' said Blake with a teasing grin.

'Hummph. Formidable? Really Lucien you do exaggerate!'

Still smiling Blake held his hand out for the reports, 'Let's have a look at this phone book.'

Together they sat down at the desk. Blake opened the envelope and scanned the title page. 'I see Tynemans' name is everywhere. Almost as though he did all the tests personally.' he said sourly.

'Well as long as they do their jobs competently they can put Father Christmas' name on it for all I care,' responded Alice. He handing her half the paperwork and Blake and Alice both began to quietly read.

The tick of the wall clock and the turning of pages was the only sound until Alice said, 'Well it is thorough anyway. I see the tests were positive for Rheumatoid Arthritis.'

A few more pages turned. 'Cortisol levels high...' commented Alice.

'Mmmm,' murmured Blake. 'And Alice, what do you think of this?' Holding out a page he pointed with his index finger to some figures.

Alice read and then looked up at him wide eyed. 'That's an awful lot of morphine for such a small woman, isn't it?

'Yes.' said Blake shortly. 'Quite a lot. Usual pain dosage is around 5 to 10mg or so. This report from the bloods and stomach contents estimates she had taken around 80 to 120mg.'

'Could she have become habituated to larger doses? I have heard of some doctors proscribing pill forms of morphine for severe pain of RA, but it is not usual.'

'Even so, this was enough to kill her.' responded Blake seriously. 'She didn't die from natural causes.'

'Suicide?' postulated Alice.

'Perhaps. But from what little I have heard about the woman it is unlikely. Until we search her home for evidence I cannot be sure but I believe that someone deliberately gave her morphine and killed her.'

...

Blakes' report and suspicion did not go over well in the Station House.

'Really Lucien?' Lawson sounded weary. 'Is everything murder with you?'

Blake looked offended. 'No Matthew, it isn't. But you will agree this is suspicious. We need to search her home and see if she has morphine on the premises. If she has I can maybe think it was suicide. But if not then we have a murder on our hands.'

'Oh, alright Blake,' said Lawson with a sigh and called out 'Ned! Did you get Peterson's address? And were her housekeys in her bag? Yes? Bring them here.' Ned scuttled over with the house keys and the address written on a piece of paper. 'Right, Charlie go with the doctor and search the house. Come back and report.' He tossed the keys to Charlie and handed the address to Blake.

As Blake and Charlie turned to go they could hear Lawson muttering softly, 'More bloody paper work.'

...

Elizabeth Peterson had lived in an old miner's cottage over in Bakery Hill, Ballarat East. The front yard held a brown, scrappy bit of grass and some struggling rose bushes. Charlie mounted the sagging front veranda with Blake at his heels. He dug out the large, old fashioned skeleton style key and opened the front door with a creak of its hinges.

It was a traditional miner's cottage layout. Hallway running down to a combined lounge/dining area, the hall flanked on either side by a bedroom. Behind the lounge a kitchen and bathroom had been tacked onto the rear of the house. Inside the house was dim, light filtering dustily through yellowed lace curtains. Charlie stood in the hall way and sniffed, then sneezed.

'Bit musty,' he commented.

Blake opened the door to one of the bedrooms and glanced in. A single bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers and a rag rug on the floor. A crucifix hung on the wall over the bed. The second bedroom was similar, although this room looked slightly more lived in. Shoes were neatly tucked under the bed and there was a chair at a dressing table draped with a robe. Blake strode into the room and looked carefully at the night table next to the bed. Nothing was on the doillied surface except a dusty glass of water and a well-thumbed catechism. He opened the drawer of the night table to find a bible, a bottle of Bex, hot water bottle (empty) and a manicure set. He glanced at Charlie,

'Nothing much here.'

The men continued their search through the house. The lounge held a couch with broken springs and matching chair covered in a faded moss rose pattern. A standing lamp. On the mantle piece above the 2-bar radiator was a single framed photo of a young digger in a WW1 uniform. A rag rug on the floor. A small black and white TV with rabbit ears was positioned opposite the chair. Next to the chair was a little table with this week's issue of TV Week folded over to the previous day's list of programming. A piano recital that was being broadcast at 8 pm on the ABC had been circled in pencil.

Blake considered and said to Charlie. 'It seems she was planning to be here last night.'

Charlie said nothing but strode to the far end of the room, the dining area. There was no dining table to be seen. Instead, against the wall, out of direct sun but in good light stood a large mahogany coloured upright piano covered in dust. Blake followed. Charlie ran his finger along the top of the piano and then looked at his dust covered digit.

'Not a great housekeeper it seems.'

Blake carefully lifted the dust covered lid of the keyboard and gently struck a key. A sour, twanging note rung out. 'And she had not played this for a long time. Sadly, out of tune. Shame to see such a lovely instrument treated this way.'

Turning, the men ventured into the kitchen to find an old dresser filled with blue willow plates, a small linoleum covered table that held a few spices, sauce bottles and jam jars, an ancient gas stove that looked like it hadn't been cleaned since it was installed, a sink and a rattling old fridge. Inside the fridge was a souring bottle of milk, half a stick of butter and a shrivelled-up carrot. The bread box on the counter held half a loaf of stale bread. The cupboards held a few tins of canned vegetables and potted meats, but all in all the kitchen was not a gourmets' delight.

Blakes face was sorrowful. 'Sad. Lonely and sad,' he said softly. Charlie made no comment but as one they turned and approached the bathroom. 'We need to check the cabinet,' reminded Blake. Charlie gave him a look. Opening the cabinet, they found the usual type of over the counter remedies, more Bex, tablets for constipation and for indigestion. Tooth powder. A comb and brush. Toothbrush in a glass on the sink. Bath salts. A threadbare towel hung on the railing. Some stockings hung to dry over the bath on a line.

Nowhere in the bathroom, or anywhere else in the house could they find a bottle of pills or liquid morphine.

They looked out the back door to the rear yard that was as miserable as the front.

'Should we check the shed?' asked Charlie. Blake shrugged and nodded. They trouped out to the shed and levered the wooden door open. All that appeared to be inside was some old gardening tools and a hand pushed lawn mower. A quick look into the cupboard there revealed nothing of interest.

With a heavy air of gloom, they locked up the house and returned to the Station.

...

Back at the station Charlie sat down at his desk with a slump. 'Well that was about the most depressing thing I've seen in a while. She may not have done herself in, but heck, living like that I wouldn't be surprised if she had!'

Lawson looked grim. 'So, nothing to indicate she was on medication?'

'Not unless she had something in her handbag. Ned?' questioned Blake.

Ned shook his head no.

'So, we have a murder on our hands again it seems. Now we have to go through all the statements again and try and work out how and when this woman was given a lethal dose of morphine.' stated Blake.

'No need to sound so happy about it,' grumbled Lawson. 'You won't be the one dealing with the powers that be and filling out all the paperwork!'

…..


	7. Chapter 7

Murder on the Ballarat Express: 7

….

Blake and the Police team sat looking gloomily at each other. They had spent several hours going over the statements, cross-checking and making notes. They were no further along eliminating any of the suspects. Finally, Blake rose and began to draw a large diagram onto the chalkboard. On the far left he drew a vertical line and marked off 9 points to indicate the stations the train passed and the beginning and end points. He drew another 11 vertical lines, heading each line with the name of everyone who had given a statement. Blake then proceeded to indicate on each line where and when that person had left the compartment, where they had gone and when they had returned. With two sweeping horizontal slashes across the board, he stood back and announced triumphantly, 'There! Within this time frame, these people had opportunity to drug Elizabeth Peterson.'

The group studied the chalkboard diagram carefully, the Lawson spoke, 'Um, you do realise this gets us no further, Lucien?'

Blake looked blankly at Lawson the back to the diagram. Then back at Lawson. 'Bloody Hell!' He exclaimed. 'EVERYONE except Jean was in the buffet car at the same time as Elizabeth. Which means everyone is guilty.'

'What, all of them? Together?' asked Ned bemusedly.

'No, no. Just that any ONE of them could have done it. Or any combination of them. Or yes, even all of them in collusion. Except Jean of course, who never left the compartment.'

Charlie hesitated. But he was a cop and a good one. 'No Doctor, even Jean.' Blake glared at him. 'See,' Charlie pointed to the board, 'here, Jean was alone in the compartment with her for a brief time. You did say Elizabeth had a needle mark, couldn't Jean have…'

'Don't be bloody ridiculous Charlie!' interrupted Blake with a threatening growl. 'You cannot seriously even suggest such a ludicrous idea! Where would she have gotten a syringe and the drug?'

'Well, she is a Doctor's wife,' interjected Lawson with a grin. 'She has plenty of resources and opportunity to obtain such things.

'And she had motive, you said she had trouble with Elizabeth spreading nasty gossip about you both,' continued Charlie with a sly grin.

Blake glared at all the men who were now smirking a bit at him. 'You are all being ridiculous. You know Jean couldn't have done such a thing! Do you honestly believe that Jean walks around with a syringe full of morphine in her handbag on the off-chance she would like to murder someone?' Blake was incredulous.

'Well, you never know what these women have in those bags of theirs,' responded Charlie teasingly.

'True 'dinks.' Put in Ned, 'Mum could camp out for a week on what she keeps in hers.'

'It's alright Lucien.' chuckled Lawson. He could see they're even suggesting such a thing was really upsetting Blake, but he couldn't resist a stir just this once. 'We all know Jean didn't do this, but we have to consider all possibilities. We cannot be seen to be ignoring someone out of favouritism, Metro would have our guts for garters if we did. Don't worry, it won't take long for us to eliminate Jean from our inquiries.'

'I should bloody hope so.' Blake grunted.' I think we could be spending our time more profitably if we concentrated on who actually did have opportunity and a real motive.'

'Was there anything in the bags and luggage you inspected?' questioned Lawson of Ned.

Ned shook his head no and said, 'Nothing of note, a few packets of aspro, couple of bottles of Bex, a tube of Dencorub. All very ordinary and commonplace things.'

Lawson considered. 'Well, let's start by looking at the statements again and just toss around a few ideas. Each of you grab a few and see what we come up with.' Lawson handed around the copies of statements to Blake, Charlie and Ned, keeping a few for himself.

Scanning through his, Charlie noted; 'Well, it says here that May Davidson was a RAAN. Also, didn't like Elizabeth much. Maybe May kept back a few supplies for herself after the demob. Lots of ex-service people did that, kept old guns and medical stuff. My Granddad had a box full of things Gran was always trying to get him to throw out. Plus, May actually made the tea for Elizabeth.

'Certainly, worth considering.' responded Lawson.

Charlie read the next two statements in his hands Betty Scott and her son. 'And Betty Scott certainly wasn't saddened by her death. But where would she get the drug?'

Lawson had some experience with the Scott's and knew the answer to that. 'Her husband John is an orderly at the hospital. She often brings him his lunch. Who knows, maybe she took advantage of a passing medical trolley?'

'But Elizabeth was sitting down already with her tea when they came into the buffet' observed Charlie.

'Yes, but the boy, didn't the boy knock into her table? He could have dropped something into the cup as he did so,' speculated Blake. If they thought Jean was a suspect then this boy should be too!

'Working in collusion? She put him up to it? I know the lad has been in some trouble but I cannot really see him doing something like this. Even for the love of his mother.' replied Lawson.

'Still, it cannot be ruled out.' said Blake. Lawson pursed his lips, he knew Blake was getting revenge for his teasing, but agreed it was a possibility.

'Peter Grady certainly holds a grudge against her.' commented Lawson looking at Peter's statement.

'But how did he know Elizabeth was on that train?' questioned Charlie. 'And where did he get the drug?'

'Well, the Conductor said she travelled regularly. Her habits could have been easily known. And why would he go all the way into town to speak to the Wool board when there is a branch here in town?' Lawson was curious.

'Also he spoke of his wife dying of cancer, perhaps he kept some of her medication.' Suggested Charlie.

'This Bruce Fletcher. He mentioned some trouble his sister had had with Elizabeth. He worked with animals.' Blake mused. 'I know vets sometimes use morphine for pain relief in dogs and cats, I wonder if it is ever used for farm animals. If so, he certainly would have access to it. But I would like to know what sort of problem his sister had with Elizabeth.'

'Yes, we'll have to follow up on that.' Lawson looked at the next sheet in his hands. 'The Conductor. Phillip Crane. Could he have done it? He certainly held real animosity toward her.' Lawson looked at Blake, 'Lucien, what do First Aid kits on trains contain?'

'I am not really sure. I would have thought them just basic med kits, but the availability of strong pain relief would certainly be an asset in a serious train accident. We will have to ask the Station Master.'

'These two insurance blokes seem pretty innocent', commented Ned. 'Claim they didn't know her from a bar of soap. I can't see any motive here.'

'Opportunity, certainly, they passed her at least three times in the buffet car, and the med kit was on the wall of the companionway I believe. Right where they were smoking,' put in Charlie. 'What about Holmes' comment about her having an account with his firm? He may be lying about how much he knows about her.'

'Check it out Ned.' instructed Lawson. 'Whenever there is money involved things can get nasty.'

Blake looked at the last statement in his hand and sighed. 'You know, the person who had the most contact with her and seemed to hate her the most was young Bert Smith, the porter.'

'Yes,' said Lawson sadly. 'He certainly had motive and more than one opportunity. If there was morphine in the first aid kit he could have easily broke into it and taken it.'

'Maybe, but I just don't see that young man as really planning something like that. Perhaps in the heat of the moment he could have doped the cup, but to think through breaking into the kit and following through with that sort of plan? Well, I just don't think he has the bottle for something like that.' Lucien commented.

'Nor really the brains. Nice lad but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. We shall have to bring him in for questioning though. May too.' Lawson said. Leaning back in his chair he stretched and sighed. 'Well this hasn't moved us forward much, but at least we know that we need to find out a lot more information about all these people. Ned finish checking and calling those numbers from her diary. We need to speak to that doctor she was seeing. Charlie, you need to start making inquiries, find out more about Grady, Fletcher, and the Insurance blokes. I'll call and speak to the railway people, that needs a delicate hand. We need Bert and May back in the station. Crane had better come in as well, I think.'

'And I will talk to Jean,' Said Blake, glaring around at the rest, daring any of the them to object.

...

Blake had a couple of late afternoon appointments at the surgery so he headed home. As he drove he worried how to brooch the subject to Jean about her being a possible suspect in the murder investigation. He parked the car in the long drive and quietly entered the house, hanging up his hat and coat in the hall. He didn't call out for Jean as he usually did when he arrived, instead he quietly began to search through the house for her.

Blake found Jean out in the sun-room. She was happily re-potting another begonia, humming to herself as she did so. He stopped at the doorway and admired his wife. Trim figure, hair glinting in the dappled sunlight. Blake thought she was the most wonderful and beautiful woman in the world and he was the luckiest man alive that she had married him. At that moment Jean happened to look up and saw him standing in the doorway. She smiled her brilliant smile, eyes crinkling up at the corners, her entire face lighting up at the sight of him.

'Lucien! I didn't hear you drive in!' She put down the pot, tore off her gardening gloves and came over to greet him. Putting her hands on either side of his face, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. Lucien put his arms around her waist and bent forward into her greeting. Pulling back slightly she smiled up at him in delight. 'You are back early! Have you had lunch?'

'Not yet. I was just going to grab a sandwich before my next lot of appointments.'

Jean took his hand and lead him into the kitchen saying, 'Come, I'll fix it for you and you can tell me all about your morning.' Lucien followed and worried what he was going to say.

...


	8. Chapter 8

Murder on the Ballarat Express 8

...

Sitting in the kitchen, Blake quietly watched as Jean made him some lunch. She was chatting cheerfully about her morning, the patients due this afternoon and the new dress she was planning to make. Like a drink of water to a thirsty man in a desert, she was cool and refreshing. And lifesaving, thought Blake to himself, this woman has saved me. Jean placed the plate of sandwiches in front of him and sat down opposite with a cup of tea for herself. Looking at him with the gentlest of smiles she said to him,'You know, Lucien, when you get quiet like this I know something is worrying you. Talk to me, we agreed to share everything; to work together. What is bothering you?'

Blake sighed through a mouthful of cheese and tomato. 'Well, it will no doubt be in the Courier soon enough. Elizabeth Peterson didn't die of natural causes, she was murdered.'

'Oh my lord!' exclaimed Jean. 'How?'

He considered for a moment, then continued. 'Jean, you know you were there. Matthew will have to talk to you again to clear you of any suspicion.'

'Me?' said Jean incredulously. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline.

'Yes, insane as it seems, everyone in the train compartment is a potential suspect.'

'Phttt.' Jean blew a soft raspberry. 'I had nothing to do with it, surely you know that Lucien!'

'Of course! That was never in doubt!' And Blake reached across and took Jeans' hand.

Jean was silent for a moment then said. 'Well, it _is_ police proceedure so I shan't take it personally. I didn't like Elizabeth, but it is ridiculous that anyone could think I could do such a thing. Tell me how she was killed.'

'An overdose of narcotic, the lab tests indicate morphine.'

'Morphine! And how exactly was I supposted to have got a hold of that?'

'Jean, you are a doctor's wife and my receptionist. You have access to all my supplies.' responded Blake.

'This is just silly Lucien. You know as well as I that you only keep a few supplies of any narcotics here in the surgery for emergencies. And they are all kept strictly under lock and key. Not only that, we have a auditing system of where and who has been prescribed and given those drugs!'

'But Jean, don't forget, you do to the auditing and paperwork, the police could say...'

Jean interupted him with, 'Lucien! you know very well that EVERYTHING we do is double checked by the supplier and the Medical Board. There is no way I could sneak something out or tamper with it without it being noticed!' Jean was getting a little annoyed.

'Of course, of course you are right,' soothed Blake. 'We just have to make sure Matthew understands that and you will be eliminated from his enquires.'

'Humph.' Jean was somewhat mollified. Then she chuckled, 'Do you think Matthew will want his dinner here tonight now? Seeing as how I am a suspect in a doping case?

Blake guffawed. 'Hah! That will be the test, eh?' He smiled back at Jean relieved to see her good humor returned. 'But Jean, it is serious. This is a terribly sad case. I went with Charlie this morning to search Elizabeths' home and I have never seen a sadder and more lonely exsistence.'

Jean regarded him soberly. 'Elizabeth closed herself off from the world years ago. She cut herself off from any friendships. Father Emery tried to help, offered the church's assistance but she refused him.'

'What happened to the woman, Jean?'

Quietly Jean considered, then spoke,'From what I know, when she was young she was a promising pianist and musician. But in those days girls were not allowed to pursue such a career. Apparently she had been offered a place at the Melbourne Conservatory of Music but her parents refused to let her go. She was an only child and they wanted her to stay in Ballarat. Instead she was married off early to a local boy, Arthur Peterson. It was said that her Father arranged the marriage.'

'She was unwilling?' asked Blake.

'Not so much unwilling as disinterested, I believe. Still, they were married some 4 or 5 years. No children. But then he was one of the first to volunteer with the Ballarat Boys at the start of WW1. He was also one of the first to be killed on the beaches of Gallipolli.'

'That must have been very hard for her.'

'Yes, but she was not alone in losing someone,' said Jean with spirit. 'There has alway been a lot of support given in this town for widows and orphans through the church and Legacy. You know that Lucien, I've told you how much they helped me after Christopher was killed.'

'I know Jean, but even so, women are always left to pick up the pieces. There is never enough help, for them. You had to go out to work to support yourself and the boys, for god's sake! What did Elizabeth do, did her family assist?'

Jean smiled at Lucien and said, 'But if I hadn't become a housekeeper I never would have met you,' she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it, then she continued. 'Elizabeth had the house that they had bought together. Their parents had helped them buy it so she owned it outright. She played the organ at church and the church paid her a stipend. But she mostly seemed to support herself by teaching piano.'

'From all I have heard, she would not have been the most sympathetic of teachers,' mused Blake.

Jean gave a snort. 'No. She was demanding and strict. Apparently she would whack the boys hands with her pointer as the played if they hit a wrong note. She would sit next to the girls and hold onto one of their pigtails and tug that if the girl made a mistake!'

'Not really conducive to instilling a love of music in children, eh? Why did parents send their children to such a teacher?'

'Well, for a long time she was the only teacher in town. My parents couldn't afford lessons for me and they didn't care for her way of teaching. But apparently her methods worked well enough for most parents. In fact, several of her students did go on to continue their musical training. One became a High School music teacher, another a concert pianist! But one took up teaching right here in Ballart as a rival to Elizabeth.'

'I bet Elizabeth didn't like that much.' commented Blake.

'No,' said Jean slowly. 'but this was maybe 10 or 15 years ago. She had stopped playing for the church, the church board asked for a replacement organist. Too many parishioners were complaining about the wrong notes being played during the hymns. Then when the new teacher came to town she lost most of her students so she stopped teaching and took up a war widow pension.'

Blake looked at Jean sadly. 'She had severe rheumatoid arthritis. I don't think she was able to play anymore. She probably had lost most mobility in her hands and she would have been in a lot of pain.'

Jean just shook her head sadly. 'We all would have helped if she let us. The church, the town, everyone. Both her parents had died and she had no family left. But Lucien, she was just so bitter and angry. No one was willing to try anymore for her. Whenever someone did she would turn on them and make their life a misery. You cannot help somebody who does not want help.'

Lucien and Jean sat together at the kitchen table holding hands. Each was thinking to themself how lucky they were to be with the other finally and how rich their life was together and how lonely Elizabeth's would have been. Then the doorbell rang announcing the first of Lucien's afternoon patients.

...

Back at the Station House, Lawson put down the phone. He had just spent the past half hour talking to James Faulks, the Station Master. Faulks was most incensed at the suggestion that any of his employees could have had anything to do with Elizabeth's death. He also confirmed that there First Aid kits on the trains contained only basic medical supplies and held no narcotics of any sort. May Davidson, Bert Smith and Phillip Crane were currently working on the afternoon train now in transit to Ballarat. They were to do one more return trip before finishing for the day. It took some convincing, but Lawson had to eventually insist that the three railway staff needed to come in upon their arrival in an hour and not work the next journey. With bad grace, Faulks agreed to put on replacement staff to cover for them and let them attend the interviews. Lawson looked up to see Constable Ned Simmons standing waiting for him to finish his call. 'Yes Ned? What is it?'

If Ned had learned one thing from Lawson it was that police work wasn't glamorous. It took a lot of phone calls, pavement pounding, and dull paper work to find a culprit. But it was attention to detail and following up on every lead that would pay off. Ned had spent almost all afternoon ringing every phone number in Elizabeth's diary and he felt he had made some real progress.

'Boss, I found the Doctor Elizabeth was seeing in Melbourne.' He consulted his notes, 'A Dr. Peter Spencer. He runs a specialist clinic in East Bentleigh that treats arthritis patients. He says that she made regular trips to the clinc to attend a physical therapist for massage and hot and cold therapy. Also, every 6 weeks or so he would inject a...' Ned paused to check his notes again, 'Corticosteriod injection into one of her joints. This last session he was treating her right shoulder.'

Lawson grunted. 'Well that explains the injection wound. Blake will be pleased, confirms Jean didn't do it. Anything else?'

'Um, he made a point of saying she wasn't his favourite patient. But that she was in a lot of pain and her condition and the medication made her particularly irritable as well as depressed. He hoped that the injections would help her but he feared they just made her character worse.'

Lawson waited and Ned continued, 'Boss, I called every number in the book. Most were things like local tradespeople or the shop. Strangely she had Peter Grady's number. When I spoke to Grady he said that she and his wife Narelle had been friends years ago. But there had been a falling out and they never spoke again. Grady swears Elizabeth never called him and he didn't know why she kept his number in her book.'

'Habit perhaps,' commented Lawson.'Anything else?'

Ned had saved the best for last, 'This one was interesting.' He referred to his notes once more, 'A Mrs. Sue Mason, who lives in Caulfied not far from the clinic. Mrs. Mason is Peter Fletcher's brother! She lived in Ballarat until she was 17, then moved to Melbourne to study piano. She used to take lessons from Elizabeth. She says she never spoke to Elizabeth after moving there, but swears that she would often see her sitting on the tram stop opposite her home.'

'What was she doing there?' asked Lawson curiously.

'Just watching. Mrs. Mason said Elizabeth would just sit there watching her house. She had called the police a couple of times about it but by the time they got there Elizabeth was gone and the local coppers didn't think it was anything to be worried about. I called the Caulfied station and spoke to the desk sergeant there. He remembered the call-outs, but they all thought Mrs. Mason was a bit batty and nothing was every done.'

'Why didn't she just go talk to the woman?' questioned Lawson.

'I asked that and Mrs. Mason said she never wanted to speak to her again. She said it was creepy the way Elizabeth would just sit there. So she got heavy curtains and would just close them to block her out when she saw her sitting there.'

'Good work Ned,' commented Lawson. Ned positvely glowed with the praise and returned to his desk. Lawson sat and thought. Then he picked up the phone and dialled Blake's number. He would need Luciens' insight on the interviews this afternoon and he wanted to tell him about Ned's findings.

...

 _Note, everyone is saying Ned is not long for this world. But before we find out for sure this weekend I wanted him to shine a little._


	9. Chapter 9

Murder on the Ballarat Express 9

...

Blake put down the phone, a smile creasing his face. Getting up from his desk he peered out into his waiting room. His next patient had not yet arrived. With any luck they would cancel. In the meantime he left the office and went in search of Jean. He found her in the laundry folding clothes. She heard him come in, turned and lifted an eyebrow in question. 'Lucien?' Blake strode across the small room in two large strides and swept Jean into his arms. Caressing her and kissing her deeply he felt her lips smile with pleasure against his. She pulled back and looked into his eyes smiling, 'Lucien! What on earth has gotten into you!'

'You, Jeanie, my dearest wife, are now clear of any suspicion of murder!' he smiled down at her.

'Well I should hope so!' she retorted briskly. 'But how?' Gently breaking free of his embrace she turned and returned to folding laundry. Blake stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders gently caressing her.

'Matthew just called. The injection was a cortisone shot the doctor gave her.' He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. Jean giggled just a little. She wasn't a giggler, but being neck nuzzled by a man with a beard tickled.

'Stop that. You have a patient in five minutes.' Blake nuzzled just a bit more and nibbled an ear.

'Matthew wants me to come in and sit in on the next round of interviews, can we cancel Henry Johnston?' He said through a mouthful of ear lobe. He breathed in the scent of her hair deeply. Pear's shampoo. And that special 'Jean' smell. He sighed into her neck.

'I'll give him a call. If he isn't here already it is likely he won't show. You know what he is like.' Jean leaned back into Blake's embrace. 'Mmmm' she sighed enjoying his closeness, then breaking free she walked away and to the phone in the hallway.

...

Blake strode into the Station with a spring in his step. Striding over to Lawson's desk he smiled cheerfully down at him. 'Thank you for that Matthew, Jean and I are most relieved to know she isn't an evil dope fiend murderess!'

Lawson scowled up at Blake. His cheerfulness irritated him. 'Don't thank me, thank Ned. He has worn his fingers down to nubs today making all those phone calls.'

Blake turned and shone his beaming face at Ned, 'Then most thanks to you Ned! And the next beer at the pub is on me. Well done.' Ned ducked his head and smiled bashfully at the doctor.

'Now then,' said Blake turning back to Lawson, 'what do we have? Catch me up.'

Lawson had just finished briefing Blake when the three Railway employees arrived for their second interviews. Muttering and grumbling, they were not impressed at being brought in a second time nor at the thought of losing part of a day's pay. They were all settled with a cup of tea and then each was brought into the interview room one at a time. Lucien acted as witness to the interview and Ned took notes while Lawson did the actual questioning.

 **Second interview: Phillip Crane**

Well I don't know why you had to drag us all back in here again! It is most inconvenient. Well Inspector Lawson, it is all well and good to apologise but some of us have bills to pay. What? Murder you say! And you think I did it? Oh, thank you Doctor, thank you very much, just helping with inquiries am I? Hurummph. Alright, alright. What do you need to know? No, I didn't notice anyone doing anything suspicious in the buffet, but I just passed through, I wasn't really noticing who was in there. Yes, that is correct, there are no narcotics kept in the First Aid kit. Just some bandages, antiseptics, Bex and Aspro and things like that. Standard stuff. I was upset because I don't like things like that happening on my watch! Thieving and vandalism. It makes me look bad to the boss. I like to keep a tight ship, so to speak. No Doctor, there was nothing special in the kit, nothing. No, nothing! Yes it can be a stressful job, especially dealing with some of the worst passengers. Please, why do you keep asking Doc? It was just a First Aid kit! Obstruction of Justice you say? Five years? Okay, okay, hang on! You seem like an understanding bloke, Doc. Please, don't tell the boss. I kept a little bottle of whiskey in the box, so when I had a hard time of it I could take a little nip. Take the edge off a bit, I tell you, you needed it when dealing with that woman. But the box was always locked and I had the key. Nobody knew, or at least I didn't think anyone did, but someone must have seen me. You can't tell the boss, I'll lose my job! (sighs) I had a quick drink after that Peterson woman harassed me so much when I clipped her ticket. I guess I was rattled and didn't notice someone watching me. They broke in and took everything. Guess they threw all the med stuff out and drank my whiskey. It was a good drop too! Oh, thank you Doc, my this is fine little hip flask you have! Ahhh. Nothing like a little drop to ease the anxiety, eh Doc? Yes, you are right, I will stop doing it at work if you promise you wouldn't tell Faulks or that arse-wipe Anders!

...

 **Second interview with May Davidson**

No, I am not best pleased. Everyone in the station and on the train are talking. I am losing a half day's pay. Why am I back here? Yes, as I said the first time, I was a RAAN during the war. Keep something? Medical supplies? You are joking aren't you? Why on earth would you think I kept anything? Anyway, they inspected all our luggage at demob. You're kidding me, she was drugged? And you think I did it! How and why? No, I couldn't stand the woman but I didn't hate her enough to hang for it. Yes, I made her tea, but everyone's tea is made the same. We use a large urn, fill it with tea before each trip and it is kept hot for the journey. It's vile stuff but we cannot be making individual pots of tea for everyone and teabags just make a frightful mess. I certainly DID NOT slip something into her cup when pouring it. No, you don't understand Inspector Lawson. I make 10 or 12 cups of tea, put them on the tray, bring the tray to the counter. I haven't got time to make individual cuppas for all and sundry. It's enough I have to pour the beers and whiskey separate. Then the customer picks up a cup, Nancy gets them a biscuit or cake or pie, they pay and go. How would I know which cup to put the drug in? You need to ask some of the customers that were standing next to her, if anyone slipped something into her cup it was one of them. Bert Smith? Don't make me laugh. That lad hasn't got the brains of a rabbit for all that he is frightened like one. No, I couldn't tell you who was at the counter with her, it was busy is all I knew. Are you satisfied? Can I go? If I am not getting paid for this afternoon at least I can have an early day and do a bit of shopping.

...

 **Second interview with Bert Smith**

Hello Mr. Inspector and Doctor, I'm pretty good, ta. No I don't mind muchly. I'll get to see me mates early tonight now. 'Strewth! Really! Who would do such an 'orrible thing? That's just 'orrible. No Doc, I didn't like her much, she was mean as, but that is right un-Christian to do that. There's a comman'ment about that you know, you just don't do it. Right, so's, I brung her her tea like I said. No, she always made someone get it for her. Even though everyone else just picks up a cup for themselves at the counter. Mr Crane always says to do it for her. Says it made everything easier for everybody. Somefin' about her han's not working right. See, she couldn't hold the cup proper to carry it. So Mr. Crane always said we was to carry it out to her. Then I gots her some more sugar, like I said. No siree Mr. Inspector Lawson, I didn't put anything in her tea! No Doc, nobody told me to put something in. No, no one threatened me and made me do it. No, I would never do anyfing like that. I couldn't. No! I didn't do it! (Bert began to cry) No! I swears I didn't. I wouldn't do anyfing like that! You go to hell for doing sumfin like that! I swears, I swears! ... (blows nose), Thank you Doc. Oh, okay, I'll get Mam to warsh if for you. Yes, a little better. But youse gots to believe me, I wouldn't ever, never do sumfin like that! Why yes, I passed lots of blokes when I's walking to her table. Lessee, there was that big bloke, Mister Grady I thinks his name is, he was at the counter when I gots her tea. He's a nice bloke. And then there was the tall bloke there, can't remember his name but he was the one sitting next to her in the carriage. And the kid and his mam, and the two other blokes. They were all in there with her. You do believe me, don't you? Doctor? I never, ever did nufin to that Mrs. Peterson. Truly. No, Mr. Inspector Lawson, why would I leave? I live here. Can I go to work tomorrow? Thank you, Mam needs to pay the rent this week. Can I go now? You do believe me, right?

...

With the departure of Bert Smith, Lawson and Blake returned to Lawson's office, sat back and looked at each other with dismay.

'Well Matthew. You may disagree, but I honestly don't believe any of those three drugged Elizabeth Peterson.' said Blake with resignation.

Lawson looked grim. 'No Lucien. May is still a slight possibility but unless something concrete turns up on her I am inclined to agree with you. Crane doesn't seem likely either. He has a problem with drink, not drugs. And young Bert?' Lawson sighed, 'Either he is an academy award winning actor or else really is the simpleton he seems and wouldn't hurt a fly.'

The two men sat quietly for a moment and thought things through. Then Lawson got up and started to put chalk lines through the diagram on the board.

He put a line through the names of Jean, Phillip Crane, May Davidson and Bert Smith. Standing back he pondered and said, 'So, that leaves us with six suspects.'

Matthew pursed his lips and looked at the board. 'Lucien, I really believe it is highly unlikely that Betty Scott and her son Ben had anything to do with this.'

Blake looked at Matthew. 'Very well. But I don't think we should take them off the list just yet.' He leaned over and put two large question marks over the mother and sons' names. 'Let's give them the benefit of the doubt but leave it open in case we have to rethink it.'

'Agreed,' said Lawson. 'We had better look into these four left.'

At that moment Sergeant Charlie Davis came into the office. His face was red and his hair tousled. From his frazzled look something was up.

'Boss,' he declared. 'That Robert Holmes character from the Golden Square Insurance company had done a runner! I've got his boss Mersey outside waiting to speak with you.'

Blake and Lawson exchanged looks. 'Well,' said Lawson, 'We'd better go talk to the man, come along Charlie, Lucien.' He looked at the clock on the wall, 'Another late one, you should call Jean and tell her first Lucien.'

...


	10. Chapter 10

**Murder on the Ballarat Express 10**

...

Blake, Charlie and Lawson found Frank Mersey agitatedly pacing the interview room. When they entered the room, the large, florid man turned and stopped. He looked at them, panic stricken. 'I want to make another statement!' he declared.

...

 **Second interview; Frank Mersey**

No! Of course, I am not calm! How can I be calm? Yes, yes, I'm sitting. See? I'm sitting! No, I don't want a damn cup of tea! This could ruin us. That little show pony Robert Holmes has been dipping into accounts and now he's done a runner leaving me to carry the can! Twenty years I have building this firm up and it could all come tumbling down by one murderous, greedy little maggot! Yes, yes, I know, calm down, I'm calm. I just don't want you coppers to think I had anything to do with whatever shenanigans that bloke has been up to. (breathes deeply) Right. So. Just so you know right off, it was him that broke into the First Aid box on the train. We didn't want to go in the buffet with that dead woman blathering on. But we wanted a drink. Rob said he knew the Conductor kept a bottle. Not sure when Chief, maybe he saw earlier, maybe another time? Doesn't matter, he knew it was there. So, we broke the lock. Wasn't hard, just needed to bend back the prong and it snapped right off. Rob threw the other stuff into the waste bin in the gents. Then we had a decent drink. Had to hide if from that kid, but he scarpered soon enough after Rob gave him a smoke. I had some Minties in my pocket so we ate those to hide the smell, then came back and sat down. You know what happened next.

Anyway, after we spoke to you jacks last night we decided to do a bit of a crawl around the pubs in town. Rob said he wanted to show me that you 'Rats could drink better than the boys from Castle. We hit every pub until closing time, then we went back to my room at the Oaks and finished off the bottle I had in there. Yes, of course we got drunk. He was blotto and I was blind! Maybe half twelve or one or so he left. I hit the sack and slept like a dead man until noon. I wasn't feeling too flash when I woke I tell you! So, I took my time about going in to the office. Got there around two or so. Rob wasn't there so I figured he was feeling a bit under the weather as well. I got the front desk girl Cheryl to ring him but he wasn't answering so I guessed he was on his way in. Thought I would start reviewing files while waiting for him. You know Elizabeth Peterson was one of his clients? What? He told you she wasn't? Well he lied to you about that the scrote. She's been with us as long as we have been in business and has put into her Life fund every week. Like I said, I didn't know her but Cheryl did, you can ask her if you like. Even when she went on the pension she would still come in and put down two or three bobs, apparently. But when I looked in her file there was a letter from her requesting to cash in her policy. She knew to the shilling how much she would receive. When? Oh, it was dated two weeks ago, here, I brought it in for you. (hands over the letter and various accounts books).

So, I looked into her account records with our bank. Here, look, there hasn't been a record of any deposits for nearly two years, it's hundreds of pounds short of what it should be! And I know she was coming in with the cash, Cheryl says Peterson came in like clockwork every week and gave Rob a pound or two. Got a receipt from him and everything. Cheryl saw her put it into her bag. He had a second receipt book in his desk the weaselly little bastard. He was pocketing all the cash from all his pensioner clients! We are going through all his books now but it looks like he has been stealing from at least fifteen different investors. Thousands of pounds! This will ruin me! (puts heads in hands).

What happened next? Then this young copper here arrives (indicates Charlie) and wants to talk with us both. I told him what was going down. Cheryl tried to call Rob again but still no answer so me and this boy in blue here hoof it over to Rob's digs. The landlady said he had packed his bags, paid off his bill and left this morning in the company car! Yes, here's the reggo number.

I heard that Peterson woman had been drugged and murdered. I knew you would want to see me again, but it wasn't me. No, I didn't see him put anything in her drink, I was with him the entire time. I certainly didn't. But who knows? The sort of person who would steal from widows and pensioners? Who knows what that sort of person would do. Bastard.

No, I won't be leaving town anytime soon Chief. It's going to take a few weeks to clear up this mess. But I tell you this for free, you blokes better find him before I do, or you'll have another murder on your hands!

…..

'Well, this is a turn up!' exclaimed Blake after Mersey had left.

Lawson grunted. Then turning to Charlie started giving instructions. 'Circulate Holmes' registration number and description of the car he was driving Australia wide. He'll probably head south to try and lose himself in the City, or leave the country. Get them to check the ports and airports. He's had a good head start but unless he ditches that car he should be easy track down.'

'On it Boss' responded Charlie who set off to do his bidding. He stopped and turned back and asked, 'Do you think Holmes killed Elizabeth?'

Lawson considered. 'Possibly. Wanted to cover up his thefts perhaps? Catch him and bring him in and we can find out for sure.' Charlie lopped back to his desk to start making calls.

'Still,' mused Blake, 'Mersey seemed certain that Holmes didn't put anything in Elizabeth's tea. Why would Mersey cover up for him?' Blake thought then spoke again, 'Also it does seem unlikely that he would voluntarily come in and make a statement that may incriminate himself. No Matthew, I don't think Mersey did it. And based on what he just told us, Holmes didn't either. Holmes may be a thief but not a murderer.'

Lawson got up from his desk and limped over to the chalkboard. He put two large question marks over Mersey and Holmes' names. 'We'll know for sure once we catch Holmes. Metro is not going to be pleased with this turn of events. But until we can locate him I want to talk to Grady and Peterson again. Bill!' he called out.

Bill looked up from his paperwork. 'Yes Boss?'

'Before you go tonight get on the blower and get Grady and Fletcher in here again first thing tomorrow.'

'Righty-oh, I'm on it.'

Lawson looked at Blake and said, 'Go home Lucien. You can't do anything else here. I'll call Metro and brief them on Holmes. Charlie will drive me home later. Tell Jean we'll be an hour or so.'

…

Mealtime was somber at the Blakes' house that evening. Jean had put dinner on hold until Lucien arrived so it was just nicely cooked by the time Matthew and Charlie got in. None of them were keen to talk about the case over dinner, they all just wanted to enjoy Jeans' tasty Irish stew. It was only after the dishes had been cleared away and washed and they were sitting in the lounge room with their after-dinner drinks that the conversation turned to the day's events.

'I think it is astonishing that no one was auditing what Holmes was doing! Are you sure that Mersey character wasn't involved?' asked Jean with a raised eyebrow.

'From what we can tell, all the agents worked fairly independently. Trust was implied in the job. It started as a family business and I guess it never occurred to Mersey that he now had too many employees to just depend on their good sense and morals without checking,' said Charlie. 'Mersey isn't a bad sort of bloke really. He seems honestly upset about the theft. He mentioned more than once how he was going pay back all the money out of his own pocket. He talked about having to sell some property he owns to cover the debts. I think he is genuine.'

'The business will probably foreclose anyway. I cannot see customers continuing to trust it!' Blake said with certainty.

Jean frowned. 'Well it's criminal. It's going to cause huge hardship for people.'

Turning to Lawson, Blake asked him, 'Tomorrow morning, do you want me to come in when you interview Grady and Fletcher?'

'Peter Grady? You still suspect him? Even after what you know about Holmes?' Jean was surprised.

'Just covering all the bases, Jean,' said Lawson. Replying to Blake he continued, 'Grady has asked if we could go out to his place. He has had some early lambs and would prefer not to come into town and back. I said yes, we'd be there before lunch. Thought it might give you and Charlie the chance to look in his medicine cabinet as well, Lucien. First off you both can try and track down Fletcher. He's been out and about and Charlie couldn't reach him by phone. His office says he'll be in the sale yards all morning.'

'First thing then, eh Charlie?' agreed Blake.

Jean sighed. 'I'll cancel your appointment in the morning then. You're lucky it was only Agnes Clasby, at least she is understanding about it.'

'Thank you, Jean,' said Blake with a smile. 'As soon as we sort this all out, things will get back to normal.'

Lawson and Charlie looked at each other and grinned. Jean rolled her eyes at Blake and said, 'Lucien, this IS normal.'

….

Much later Jean lay in bed, as Lucien spooned against her she murmured, 'Lucien…'.

'hmmmm?' mumbled Blake sleepily.

'Don't be too hard on Peter Grady tomorrow.'

'Jeanie love, we have to ask the questions.'

'I know,' sighed Jean, 'but he's had such a tough time. His wife died a terrible death. He had to watch her in pain and suffering for months. It nearly broke him. Just go gently please.'

Blake kissed her tenderly on the neck. 'Alright Jean. Softly, softly, I promise. Now sleep. Just sleep and don't worry.' Jean could feel him dozing off again and heard his gentle snore. She lay there for a while thinking, then drifted off herself nestled in the comfort of Lucien's arms.

…


	11. Chapter 11

**Murder on the Ballarat Express 11**

...

The next morning Charlie and Blake walked into the shop front of the Ballarat Auctioneers, Stock and Station Agents in La Trobe Street and asked to see Bruce Fletcher. The young receptionist told them that he was not in the office but currently attending a Prime Sheep and Lamb sale at the Ballarat Sale yard. He was a livestock agent advising a local grazier on the sale and purchase of new stock. Getting directions from the receptionist they thanked her and proceeded to the Sale Yard.

With pens crowded with sheep and lambs, Auctioneers shouting prices, stockmen and graziers making deals, bleating sheep and lambs, the Sale Yard was a dusty, smelly, bustling place of business. The two men searched the large yard for Fletcher and finally located him in the far corner of the pens, negotiating a deal between a seller and buyer. They watched as the deal was negotiated. Holding forward the papers for the negotiators to sign, he dropped his pen. With a grimace he bent stiffly at the knees and retrieved it from the dirt. Blake watched curiously as the deal was finalised. Finally, the sale was sealed with a handshake and the three gentlemen parted ways. Bruce Fletcher turned, spotted them, started, then waved them forward.

'What brings you gents out her?' he inquired.

'Just following up on our enquiries,' Charlie responded. 'We need to ask you a few more questions about your relationship with Elizabeth.'

 **Second interview: Bruce Fletcher**

I didn't know the woman. Hadn't seen her since I was 9 years old. Mum tried to get me to learn piano from the old bat. It was hell and I never learned a damn thing from her. Told Mum on my 10th birthday that I wasn't going to be any concert pianist, I was going to be a farmer like Dad and stop wasting her money. Well, I'm not a farmer, but this is close to it. I like the animals. What do you mean giving false evidence? I didn't know the woman, I only had four or five lessons with her before I packed it in. Oh, sweet baby Jesus! It must be over 25 years or more since I spoke to her! I didn't lie. After how she treated my sister I never wanted anything to do with her. Yeah, my sister Sue. Sue Mason. She's five years older than me, left Ballarat when she was 17. Why? She was accepted into the Melbourne Conservatory of Music, that's why. No thanks to that Elizabeth bloody Peterson though. They had some sort of falling out over it. No, it wasn't her teaching, Sue had talent. Not even Peterson could have beat it out of her.

No, I don't bloody know what happened. I was 12, a kid when she left. What does a kid know? All I saw was that Sue was unhappy and miserable that last year. Peterson made her life hell, Mum did a lot of shouting about Peterson, then Sue left and it all came good. I don't know what that Peterson woman did to her, Sue never told me. As far as I know Sue never spoke to Peterson ever again, she has certainly never come back to Ballarat. Married a conductor she did. She's a concert pianist for the Melbourne symphony, she's that busy she couldn't even get away for Mum's funeral! That's why I was on the train. Hadn't seen her for yonks so I'd been in town visiting her and watching her performance for the ABC concert series. They recorded it for tv and she is going to be famous!

So someone did for her at last? Well I won't cry any tears for her. They should pin a medal on the bloke who did it.'

…..

With that final comment, Bruce Fletcher stormed off stiffly and was lost in a sea of sheep and stockmen. Blake looked at Charlie and said 'I think I'd really like to talk to Sue Mason. Fancy a drive down to Melbourne after we talk to Peter Grady?

Charlie looked at him. 'Have to be in your car and you'll have to clear it with the Boss. It'll take all afternoon to get there and back.'

'Consider it done' responded Blake with a winning smile.

…

Peter Grady lived about 20 minutes out of town out past Cresswick towards Bendigo. As Blake and Charlie sped down the Midland/Bendigo Highway towards Grady's farm Blake said to Charlie, 'You know, Jean is worried about us being too hard on Grady. She told me to go easy on him.'

'She didn't say I had to go easy on him though, did she!' responded Charlie with some spirit. On occasion he thought Jean interfered just that little too often in their police work.

'Charlie,' Blake had that conciliatory tone in his voice, 'I think she just meant we were to be a bit sensitive in our questioning the man.'

Charlie snorted. 'Tell you what Doc, I'll let you do your caring doctor impression and question him and I'll play the dumb copper role. But if I sniff out anything suss I am going to step in.'

'Fine Charlie, fine. But before we do any interviewing let me say I have an urgent nature call. You keep him occupied. That way I should be able to check out what he's got in his bathroom cabinet without raising suspicion.'

Charlie had the address Ned had written down on a scrap of paper for them and as they approached he sung out to Blake, 'Here it is, turn right up this drive.'

Blake turned up the dusty track and they began to wind their way up the long drive to the farm house in the distance. It was a well maintained farm. The paddocks were still lush with spring growth. Grady had left several stands of native gum trees to offer shelter and under these were clustered groups of merino sheep, several with young lambs. Their car left a fishtail of dust behind them alerting anyone on the farm of their approach. As they neared the farmhouse they saw a small Holden ute being driven towards them from the other side of the far paddock. Both cars arrived at the front of the house at the same time and pulled in. Charlie and Blake stepped out and from the ute Grady emerged.

'Morning Gents,' Grady sung out laconically. 'Lawson told me you'd be here, come inside and we'll grab a cuppa while we chat. Hope it won't take too long, I've got a bloody ewe up the far paddock that is due to drop any second.' With that he strode up and mounted the verandah then held the front door open for them. 'Come through, kitchen's up the back. I'll just put on the billy.'

They entered the cool house. It was immediately obvious that the place was lacking a woman's touch. It was clean enough, but slightly grimy around the corners and the breakfast dishes were unwashed in the kitchen sink. 'Scuse the mess. I try to keep on top of it but just can't seem to quite do it all as well as Narelle could. Don't really have the time or feel for it.' He filled the kettle under the sink tap and put it on the stove to boil.

'Excuse me Peter, but I've been caught short as they say. Can I use the ...?' asked Blake.

'Sure thing, it's that little house up the back there,' Peter held open the rear screen door and pointed to the outhouse. Blake stared at it in dismay. Then Peter let out a guffaw, slapped Blake on the back and said, 'Hah! Got ya' good! Just kidding around, wouldn't expect a posh Doc like you to hafta use the outdoor dunny! Hah! Don't worry, I had an inside dunny installed for Narelle.' He sobered a bit in memory. 'Just down that hall there and to the right. Now then young fella', he said turning to Charlie, 'howdya' like your cha?'

Leaving Charlie to Grady, Blake strode up the hallway glancing left and right into the rooms as he went. A couple of bedrooms off the hall, one empty, the other obviously Grady's, clothes haphazardly strewn about the room. Quietly Blake stepped into the bedroom and had a quick look and poke around finding nothing of interest. The new indoor toilet and bathroom was next to this bedroom, it had obviously once been a third bedroom now converted to accommodate an invalid. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The walls and floor were white tiled and there were handholds around all the walls and bath tub with a hand held shower fixture. The room had been designed to accommodate a wheel chair and was large and roomy. There was a toilet in the corner and folded up next to it was an invalids' toilet chair. A few towels hung on the railings. Blake stepped over to the sink and opened the mirrored cabinet that hung above it. He carefully inspected all the contents, again finding nothing of interest. Stepping back he walked over to the toilet, flushed it, walked back to the sink and run his hands under the water then left the bathroom.

Entering the kitchen again he found Grady and Charlie sitting at the table with 3 mugs of tea placed there. Grady looked up at him and said 'Thought you might'a fallen in, was gonna' send a search party in a minute.'

'Uh, yes,' Blake put his hand over his stomach, 'it plays up a bit sometime. The war you understand.' Blake gave Charlie a quick shake of his head.

'Humph. Was in New Guinea myself. Tough times.'

'Yes. Forgive me Peter, but we need to ask you some more questions concerning Elizabeth Petersons' death.'

 **Second Interview: Peter Grady**

That bloody woman. Even dead she doesn't leave me alone! Bloody horrible woman. You know what she did to my Narelle? They was friends for a bit. Narelle used to help in the church when she could and Elizabeth seemed to take a bit of interest in her. Used to call her up and they'd chat a bit on the phone. Once or twice we'd go for tea with her at the cafe after church. No, I never liked her much, but Narelle didn't have many lady friends so I didn't object. Narelle was always kinda shy with people. Heart of gold my Narelle, but quiet-like. She loved this farm and the sheep and all the animals. Was always nursing a little poddy lamb. It took time to get to know her. I courted her nearly 5 years before she agreed to marry me. (sighs) I miss her more than I can say. But then she got sick. Got the cancer. Thanks Doc, it was hard, for both of us. She had the operation and seemed to come good for a bit, but then it came back. Bloody Elizabeth would call her up and upset her. It took me a good long while to find out what that woman was saying to her. She'd been telling my Narelle that it was my fault she got the cancer! That me being a Proddy was against the church and we weren't really married. Kept calling it 'God's judgement.' Said she was the one who really loved her, not me. Wanted her to leave me and go live with her, told her she'd look after her. Well, when Narelle told me I saw red. If Narelle hadn't of begged me I would have gone and throttled the woman then and there. But Narelle stopped me, talked sense into me. She stopped answering the phone and I would just hang up on Elizabeth when she called and I answered. That Elizabeth even called after Narelle died and said such horrible things to me. Couldn't even let Narelle rest or leave me in peace. (There was a long pause) I did my best for my Narelle. Made the house comfortable for her. Let the farm go a bit so I could look after her. (he gave a sad laugh) She used to worry about the lambs so much. I would bring them into the bedroom so she could see them, later, when she couldn't walk anymore. That made her laugh and she would hold them on the bed with her and nurse them. Those doctors, they wanted her to go into the hospice, but she wanted to be here on the farm, with me and the lambs. (he put his head in his hands, sorrowing). What's that Doc? Yes, the hospital gave her some tablets to ease the pain. Morphine. No, there are none left Doc. All gone. In the end, in the end... we used them all. It was the only way. She wanted the pain to end, she begged and begged for the pain to stop. Narelle took them all. None left Doc. None. Nothing's left. (He looked up at the men with tears streaming down his face.)

...

The two men drove south to Melbourne not saying a word. Neither spoke for some time, until eventually Blake asked Charlie softly, 'What will you tell Lawson?'

Charlie didn't say anything for a moment. Then he spoke. 'I'm a good cop. I know the law... but sometimes the law doesn't seem to fit, does it Lucien?'

'No Charlie. No it doesn't.'

They drove in silence for a while more. Charlie spoke, 'My report will state that we found no evidence of morphine on the premises and have no reason to suspect Peter Grady as being responsible for the death of Elizabeth Peterson. I think that's all I need to say.'

'Bravo Charlie, bravo.' replied Blake very quietly.

...


	12. Chapter 12

**Murder on the Ballarat Express 12**

...

It was a good two hour run from Ballarat to the Glen Eira suburb where Sue Mason lived. Along the way they stopped for a quick sandwich and a milkshake at a Milk Bar in Bacchus Marsh. While there, Charlie had reported back to the Station the results of the mornings' interviews from a red phone box outside. Pushing aside the sticky fly strips hanging from the door of the milk bar he rejoined Blake at the table. Sliding into the cracked plastic bench seat he picked up the metal cup and sucked noisly at the remains of his 'shake.

'I can buy you another if you like,' observed Blake.

'No, I'm good. Lawson said he had called ahead and Sue Mason will be at home this afternoon to talk with us. Told us not to mess about, this wasn't some sort of junket.' Responded Charlie with a grin.

'Really. He said that, did he?' Blake grinned back.

'Yep. But here's some news as well. Metro police caught Holmes this morning trying to board a cargo ship at Princess Pier! They've got him in custody at Russell Street. Didn't find any of the drug on him, just a bag full of cash. Denies knowing anything about Elizabeth and corroborates Merseys' alibi. They are going to formally interview him there. Boss didn't sound best pleased about that.'

'Yes, I can just imagine his reaction to that,' said Blake wryly. With that the two men got up and returned to the car and resumed their journey.

Over the humming sound of the engine and road noise Charlie had to raise his voice to be heard, 'I don't really understand why we are going to see this woman, Doc. She wasn't a witness nor has anything to do with this case that I can see.'

'Oh I don't know Charlie. It's just something about this entire thing doesn't feel right. Yes, I know no one liked the woman, but no one seems to have a clear cut motive. I'm hoping Sue Mason can give us a better view of Elizabeth. Someone who knew her before she made so many enemies. We need something to point to who might have hated her enough to kill her.'

'Well I sure hope something turns up. Boss says we have to be back before 6 tonight so we can't hang about. How about putting your foot down a bit Doc and actually do the speed limit?'

...

Sue Mason lived in a tidy California bungalow style home on Brighton Road, just opposite the #67 tram stop in Glen Eira. Blake parked his Holden on the street outside and both men got out and walked up the short path to the front door. Faintly through the lead-light glass door they could hear a piano playing.

'Debussy,' muttered Blake.

Charlie knocked briskly and stood back to wait. The music stopped and they could hear footsteps coming down the hallway. The front door opened to reveal a tall woman in her late 30's or early 40's who bore a striking resembalnce to Bruce Fletcher.

'Yes?' she queried with an arched brow.

Charlie stepped forward and showed his warrant card. 'Sorry to interrupt your afternoon. Mrs. Mason? I'm Senior Sergeant Davis and this is Doctor Lucien Blake from the Ballarat police. I believe Chief Superintendant Lawson called you to tell of our visit?'

'Indeed. Well you had best come in.' She held the door open and bekoned them to enter. Both men followed her into a music room. 'We can talk in here.' And she led them into a brightly lit room dominated by a baby grand piano. In the corner of the room was a small child's cot surrounded by a chaos of soft toys. There were several hard backed chairs arranged near the piano and she gestured again and said, 'please, take a seat.'

At that moment, in a distant room a baby began to cry. Sue Mason winced. 'Oh dear, young Paul has woken early. Please excuse me for a moment. The nanny has stepped out for a bit and I hate to leave him crying.' With that she turned and hurried from the room. Charlie sat down gingerly in one of the hard backed chairs. Blake strode over to the piano and gently pressed a key, sounding a soft note.

'Beautiful.' He carefully studied the sheets of music on the piano and smiled to himself. He picked one up and started to hum while waving a hand in time. 'Impressive.'

'You play, Doctor?' Sue Mason was standing in the doorway, carrying a young child of some 8 or 9 months. She was holding a teething ring to his mouth and he was chewing it with serious attention. 'He's teething.' She smiled down at her boy.

'I play a little,' replied Blake, replacing the music to the top of the piano. 'Neither well nor with any true dedication. But I do enjoy the piano. Did I hear you playing Debussy as we arrived? 'Deux arabesques?'

'Oh, well done Doctor. Yes, they are two of my warm up pieces.'

'Yes, wonderfully impressionistic stuff. Very evocotive.'

Gently bouncing the child in her arms, she replied, 'I love the way he weaves the theme through different modes and keys. But,' here she looked up from her son, 'you didn't come here to talk about music, did you?'

'No' responded Charlie. 'We'd like to talk to you about Elizabeth Peterson.'

Sue sighed and crossing the room she gently lay her son in the cot, then returned and sat on the piano bench.

 **Statement of Sue Mason**

This is difficult gentlemen, I have only just been told that she had died by her solicitor. I have not spoken to Elizabeth in over 20 years. It must be nearer 25. She was my teacher, you know, back in Ballarat? Yes, I see you know that, Bruce must have told you. No Doctor, she wasn't an easy or kind teacher, but for me, she was the _right_ type of teacher. She was serious about her music. It _meant_ something to her. I always felt the same way about music, it is important, it is like breathing to me. I thrived on the discipline, enjoyed it even. But she was often cruel to others. She resented having to teach what she called the 'tone deaf and club fisted.' After Bruce's accident they told my mother he would never be able to do much physical labour and she thought it would be a good outlet for him. Oh, you didn't know? When he was 8 he broke broke his back falling from a horse. Mum and Dad didn't realise how seriously he had been injured at first, after all he got up and walked around. But he collapsed a few days later and couldn't walk. He spent many weeks in hospital and months in a brace, he was lucky to ever walk again. He still is in pain to this day. But Elizabeth wasn't sympathetic at all. He couldn't sit still for long and practice so she would hit his hands with her baton when he made mistakes. Once she pushed him right off the stool! Honestly, he had only just come out of hospital! He was in pain again for weeks after that. I think that is the first time I ever argued with her about anything.

(Sue paused in thought for a moment). We started to argue a lot. I was 16 or so when I decided I wanted to study the piano here at the Melbourne Conservatory. I knew she had wanted to do so when she was young and I thought she would be pleased. But she wasn't, not in the least. We argued quite a lot about it. She insisted I wasn't good enough. (laughs a bit). But I was determined. I sent off an application without her approval. Mum helped me write it instead. When Elizabeth found out she was furious. I had never seen her so angry. Elizabeth grabbed me and shook me and told me not to be so silly, that she could never let me leave, that she loved me. (Sue looked at Blake in appeal). I was 17. From a country town. Young and naive. I didn't know what she meant. I told her I loved her too, but I meant as my teacher. I loved her as my teacher! I had only known the love of my parents and brother, I really did not have a clue about the world. Then Elizabeth kissed me, not like a friend or a mother does, but like a lover. I was so shocked and horrified. I had never even had a boyfriend!

(Sue took a shuddering breath). What did I do? I did what every good Ballarat girl does, I ran home and told my mother. THAT caused a ruckus you wouldn't believe! Mum and Dad shouting at each other, at me, yelling on the phone to Elizabeth. Bruce? Of course, he heard it all, he was always right there listening, poor little blighter. So the classes stopped, then I got the interview in Melbourne. Mum came with me and I won the scholarship. It was only later on I discovered from one of my professors that Elizabeth had written the selection committee telling them that I wasn't worth their time or effort. In spite of that they were impressed enough to give me a chance! After hearing what Elizabeth had done to try and ruin my opportunity, any respect or affection I ever held for her was gone.

No Sargeant, I didn't ever speak with her again. I never returned to Ballarat in case I would run into her on the street. Mum used come visit me when she could, but I built a new life here in town for myself. Built a career, married Geoff and now I have a son. But about 10 years ago, after my first concert performance at the Town Hall there was an article about me in The Age. They printed my address. I started to see Elizabeth every so often sitting out there on the tram stop. Just watching the house. It was very upsetting Doctor. The police did not do anything about it, she was always gone before they arrived. Once I left the house to try and go tell her to go away, but she saw me coming and got on the tram before I could speak to her. After that I had these curtains put in so I could hide when I saw her. Geoff thought I was crazy and sometimes I thought I was too, but I did see her there. Watching and watching. I don't know why she kept bothering me after all these years. Yes, I had told Bruce about it, we actually talked again about it on his last visit. He has always been so understanding and believed me when said I saw her. In fact, I am sure I saw her again earlier this week when Bruce was visiting, I pointed her out to him. But Paul here was crying and by the time we calmed him down and looked again she was gone.

Even now that she is dead she won't leave me alone. What do I mean Doctor? Well, apart from you two bothering me about her today, remember I said that I had heard she was dead from her solicitor? It seems she has made me the sole benificiary of her will and left everything she has to me! I don't want it, I don't! I just wanted her out of my life, I don't want her money, life insurance or house!

...

With the baby beginning to fuss again, Blake and Charlie left Sues' house and drove off. At the next corner was a red phone box and Blake pulled up next to it. Charlie got out of the car and made a call to the Ballarat Station.

'Bill? Tell the Boss to pull in Bruce Fletcher. Now. Yes, charge him on suspicion of murder. We'll be back as quick as possible, but don't let him get away.'

...


	13. Chapter 13

Murder on the Ballarat Express 13

...

Blake and Charlie arrived back at the Station House a bit before 6pm. Charlie had been shocked that Blake had actually exceeded the speed limit on several occasions by a few miles per hour. They walked into the station to see Lawson, Bill and Ned waiting impatiently for them.

'About time!' barked Lawson. 'We've got Fletcher banged up in the cells and he is yelling blue murder. Demanding to see a doctor. Claiming he is innocent of anything. Unless you can pull off a miracle there is no way we can make this charge stick.'

'Did you search his flat?' responded Blake mildly. 'I can guess what you found.'

'Yes, of course we searched his place. But no, we didn't find any drugs.' responded Bill irritably.

'But what we did find were scripts for morphine in his desk drawer at his place of work. Hidden under some bill of sale invoices were scripts from 7 different doctors in the area between here, Bendigo and Melbourne, all made out to different people.' said Lawson. 'But no drugs anywhere. Ned has been following up on the prescribing doctors.'

Blake looked slightly thoughtful. 'Sue Mason said he had been injured as a child. I think his injury has caused him life-long pain. The medical board keeps fairly strict records of use, but it is simple enough to just go to another doctor, register under a different name and get another script. It sounds like he has been scamming the system. Until Parliament sorts out new legislation it is an on-going problem, there is no universal register yet. But if he is dependent on the drug, he won't be going anywhere without it.'

Blake paused, then turned to Ned, 'What did he have on him. Ned?'

Young Ned turned to the suspects booking report and read out, 'Watch, belt, wallet with 1 pound 4 shillings in cash, drivers' licence, bottle of Bex, comb...'

'Show me the bottle!' interrupted Blake. Ned blinked, then went to the locker and pulled out the carton holding Fletchers effects, rummaged around in it for a few seconds then handed over the bottle of Bex he found there to Blake.

Blake took the bottle and screwed off the lid. Shaking a few of the tablets into his hand he nodded. 'As I thought. Look Matthew,' and showed Lawson the tablets. Lawson just raised an eyebrow in question. 'They aren't marked with the Bex symbol. In fact, this symbol indicates a morphine sulphate compound and the 30 mark on the reverse shows it is a 30mg tablet. I recognise the mark. These are strong doses.'

'So, he replaces the Bex tablets with his morphine. Why?' puzzled Charlie.

'To hide the fact that he is an addict from everyone. I suspect he has been hiding this for a very long time.' responded Blake. Then he looked over at Bill, 'He wants to see a doctor?'

'Yes, keeps saying he needs his pills. Now we know why,' put in Bill.

'You didn't rough him up at all when you arrested him, did you Bill?'

Bill was slightly offended and tersely said to Blake, 'No Doc. Just a bit of strong-arm to get him to move along. I didn't bash him around at all. Didn't need too, as soon as I grabbed him he just sort of wilted and came along.'

'Hmmm, any rough treatment may have caused him back pain. Easier and less painful for him to come quietly.' Blake thought a bit more. 'Matthew, do you have any Bex in the office?'

'Yes, powders or tablets?' Lawson searched through his desk drawer then handed Blake a small box and a small bottle of the medication. Blake took the bottle.

'Tablets, of course. I'll go down to the cells with Charlie and examine him. Offer him these for his pain. Charlie, you and I need to play dumb, pretend we don't know anything about the morphine tablets. Let him think he has gotten away with it for the time being. He'll try and pretend there isn't a problem and hope he will be released. But, Matthew, we need to keep him overnight. Depending on when he last took a dose he should start to feel the withdrawal effects by the morning. I think he has been lying to us all along, we need to get him to talk.'

'Hum, yes.' agreed Matthew. 'Charlie, let him know we are keeping him here over night on suspicion and will interview him in the morning. Tell him I am out on another call. I think he will be a lot more receptive to questioning after a few hours in the cells. We'll be able to sweat the truth out of him.'

'Oh, and Matthew,' added Blake, 'make sure the night shift keeps an eye on him. He might get desperate and try and self harm to get out of the cells and into a hospital. Depending on when he last took a dose will depend on how desperate he gets.

...

Fletcher was gingerly sitting on the cot in his cell when Charlie and Blake arrived. He got up stiffly and said, 'What is all this about? I haven't done anything! This is a ridiculous charge!'

Charlie merely opened the cell door and let Blake enter, locking the door behind him.

'Mr. Fletcher, have the police injured you in any way? I notice you seem to be having trouble moving easily,' Blake was solicitous.

Fletcher was suspicious and growled, 'No, that big bruiser of a copper pulled me about a bit, think I strained something. Get me my Bex and I'll be fine.'

'I should examine you and see...'

'No. No, I am fine. Just get me the pills. And let me out of here.'

'I am sorry Mr. Fletcher,' put in Charlie, 'but you will be spending the night here in the cells. We told you when we booked you that you were being charged under suspicion of murder. Our Chief Superintendant is out on another matter and cannot interview you formally until the morning. Do you need the doctor here to check you over?'

'No, no doctor! This is insane, I can't stay here all night! Damn it, this is a fit up! Why would I want to kill Elizabeth Peterson?'

'Why indeed,' said Blake quietly. 'Well, you can explain in the morning. Until then this should help relieve your muscle strain,' and he handed over two Bex tablets. Fletcher took the tablets and sat down on his cot looking down at the pills miserably. He recognised the Bex symbol and knew there was no way he could demand his 'own' Bex without questions being asked. Blake turned and indicated to Charlie who let him out of the cell and locked Fletcher in.

'Fucking ridiculous useless bunch of bastards,' they heard Fletcher mutter as they turned and left.

...

It was a sombre meal at the Blake household that night. By mutual agreement they did not discuss the case together. Both Charlie and Lawson watched a bit of television then turned in early. Blake spent several hours in his study researching addition, its effects and medical treatments for it. Jean checked on him around 10-ish, gave him a kiss goodnight and went to bed. Blake read for another hour or so over a quiet scotch, then sighing, he rose and stretched, then took himself off to bed as well.

...

They all arrived back at the station in the morning just after 8.30. Charlie went and checked on Fletcher in the cells. The night watch had reported no incidents. Charlie found Fletcher curled in a foetal position on his cot under the rough woollen blanket. Charlie had brought some breakfast with him, but one look at Fletchers' face told him that he wouldn't be eating much. He left the meal of tea and toast behind and returned upstairs to report to Lawson.

'He's not looking too flash this morning, Boss.'

'Let's give him another hour or so to really think about things.' said Blake. 'He's not dying, he is just going to feel like it.'

'We have to be careful Lucien. We don't want him so sick he says anything just to get relief. It has to stand up in court. We cannot be seen to be behaving in a cruel fashion.' Lawson was a bit taken aback by Blake's attitude. It was out of character for him to be this unfeeling.

Blake looked at him bleakly. 'The man's a murderer. I am sure of it. What he did to Elizabeth was wrong, no matter how unpleasant a person she was. But you are right, that isn't a reason to be cruel. Maybe you should bring him up then.'

...

Bill Hobart brought Fletcher into the interview room and sat him down across from Lawson, Blake and Charlie. Fletcher was pale, he kept sniffing his runny nose. He shifted restlessly on his chair, anxious and nervous. A sheen of sweat shone on his upper lip.

'Bruce Fletcher, you understand why you are here and the charges against you?' asked Charlie.

'I'm sick. I'm not well. I need my medication,' pleaded Fletcher.

'Do you understand the charges?' repeated Charlie.

'Yes, yes. Please, I'm sick!'

Blake produced a bottle of Bex from his pocket. 'I am afraid son we cannot give you the medication you had with you, all we can offer you is standard pain relief.'

'That useless shit, take it away! Useless.' moaned Fletcher pushing away the analgesic.

Blake looked at Lawson and Charlie. Lawson motioned for Blake to take the lead.

'Bruce, we understand. We really do. We are not trying to torture you. Please, tell us what happened to Elizabeth. We can get you into treatment. We can stop your pain.' Blake was the voice of reason and compassion.

Fletcher looked at Blake and moaned. 'Nothing stops the pain anymore. Nothing. For years and years, I have hurt. Ever since I was a boy, after my accident. Please, give me my medicine, it's the only thing that helps even a little bit.' Fletcher was sweating and trembling now.

'Son,' said Blake gently, 'we can't do that. Your 'medication' is evidence. We know you knew Elizabeth Peterson. We know you saw her at your sister's house. We know you had opportunity on the train to drug her. You are a morphine addict, we know this. Tell us, tell us what happened. Tell us in your own words. Help yourself, save yourself from this pain.'

Fletcher put his face in his hands and moaned.

'We are going to be charging you with obtaining restricted narcotics by deception. You realise this has a minimum 10-year sentence, don't you? In a maximum-security prison?' Lawson's voice was hard. 'This can be easy or hard for you, we can arrange medical treatment. You can be put into a hospital wing. They can help you with your pain. Or we just put you into general population and you sweat it out on your own. Your choice. If you tell us about Elizabeth we can make it easy.

Fletcher shuddered in pain, looked up at Lawson and sneered. 'Elizabeth Bloody Peterson. May she rot in hell.' He drew a sobbing breath and began to talk.

...

Confession of Bruce Fletcher

I was a happy little kid, ya' know that? Strong. Da used to call me his 'strong man'. I was going to take over the farm one day. We were a happy family too. My sister Sue, she was special. Talented, really talented on the piano. Still is, but then she was my guardian angel. I used to follow her everywhere and she never minded, let me sit next her at the piano when she practiced. Took me out and played with me. Flew kites together. Taught me how to climb trees. Then I had my accident. Stupid, stupid boy. Thought I could jump a fence on that old four-poster pony. Stupid. Didn't tell anyone for days what had happened. Then I woke up screaming and I couldn't walk anymore.

Took months and months to get better. Sue was always right there for me, came to the hospital every day. Helped me with my treatment. I wouldn't be walking today without her help. But it cost her, cost her dearly. Elizabeth kept nagging at her, telling her not to waste time on me. Told her I wasn't worth the trouble, music was more important. Can you believe that? Sue stood up for me. When I was better, Mum tried to make me take piano lessons from Elizabeth. That woman hurt me, hurt me badly, she would push me off the chair and scream at me. Said I was hopeless, useless and to go away and die. Imagine saying that to a kid? Sue caught her at it once when she came to pick me up. They argued and argued while I just sat on the floor crying in pain. I refused to go back to piano lessons.

Then Sue said she was leaving, there was a huge fight with Elizabeth about that. Mum and Dad fought about it. I didn't fully understand why the time, it wasn't until years later that I realised what Elizabeth was. (Bruce shook his head) I don't understand that, how she could be like that, it's not natural. Not right.

Then it all just seemed to get worse and worse. I couldn't help around the farm anymore, anytime I tried to help it would hurt. I couldn't ride a horse, help with the shearing, ride in the tractor without crying from the pain. Dad just got madder and madder and started to call me a useless wuss. The only thing that helped was the drug, but the doctors wouldn't let me take much. Sue was gone, she never came back. I would see Elizabeth in town and she would follow me around whispering evil things. About me being a weakling. About Mum and Dad. About keeping Sue away from her. Then Dad died. We had to sell the farm, I couldn't run it. I left school and got a job apprenticed at the stock agents.

(Fletcher paused). Life goes on. I never got really any better, but I found out how to manage. I stayed out of Elizabeth's way. Sue got ahead with her life. I would see her now and then in town with Mum. Then Mum died and there was no one left except Sue. But she wouldn't come home, not even for the funeral. She said she didn't want to see Elizabeth there. Then one day, Sue called me and told me that she had seen Elizabeth outside her house. She was scared. It kept happening over and over. I went to Elizabeth once and told her to stop and she just laughed at me. Then the phone calls started. Sue didn't mention the phone calls? Well, no way to prove it was her. Someone would call her up, listen to her voice, but not say anything. Then hang up. The police said it was prank calls. Useless pricks. They didn't believe her when she said that she was being watched. Said it was in her imagination. Suggested she was loopy. But last week I was at Sue's place I saw with my own eyes that evil bitch just sitting there, watching.

Call the cops? You're having a lend. The woman was gone before we could get to the phone. And like the police said to Sue once before, what harm was she doing, just watching? Sue was that upset, she begged me to get Elizabeth to stop, to leave her alone. Make her understand she had a husband and a child, to stop bothering her. Begged me.

Then... then when I got on the train... the evil old bat was sitting right next to me. Muttering and spewing all sorts of nastiness. I just sat there, it was like I was... just, invisible sort of ... everything was grey, like my head was wrapped in cotton wool, sort of numb all over. She got up to go to the buffet and I followed her. I stood next to her at the counter. She ordered a tea. I ordered a scotch. She said something about it being the demon drink and I would burn in hell. I laughed at her and told her she wasn't one to talk about burning in hell. Then... then...it was so strange. Like it was planned by God himself. She was looking in her bag and bitching about losing her powders. Her Bex powders. And I thought, why the hell not? All I could think of was Sue. Now I could be Sue's guardian angel. I didn't think she would take them from me, but why not? So, I offered her my medication. She didn't know it wasn't Bex. I shook out four tablets and offered them to her. And she took it. Took two. Bitched about it being tablets, not powder. I don't know why she took them from me, she must have really had a bad headache or something. Didn't even thank me! Then she ordered the Porter to bring her the tea. I still had two more tablets in my hand. I picked up one cup and before anyone noticed dropped them into it and handed it to the Porter.

I drank my scotch. I went back to the carriage. My head still felt like it was stuffed with wool. I sat down and just... just stared ahead. She came back in, she was wobbling a bit. She sat down, closed her eyes and I never heard her say another word. Quiet. Blessed, blessed quiet.

...

Blake closed his eyes in agony, opened them again and looked at Fletcher. 'Thank you for telling us,' he said softly.

Fletcher looked at Blake. 'Tell Sue I'm sorry. I'm sorry.' And he hung his head.

Lawson looked at Charlie and said, 'Call the hospital. Take him down under guard.'

...

That night, Blake held Jean very, very close. He didn't cry for Elizabeth, but he sorrowed for the ruined life of young Bruce Fletcher.

...

The last thoughts of Elizabeth Peterson

Well, wouldn't you just know it. Idiots. The people running this railway are incompetent idiots. Especially this Conductor and this imbecile Porter. How dare they, how _dare_ they expect me to sit in a second-class carriage. Everything hurts. Everything. Even in first class seats it hurts and those second-class seats are even worse. Narrow and hard. Take the next train? No, I just want to get home. Sues' concert is on the ABC tonight I have to see it. Very well, if I must I must. I have to hear her play again. I couldn't hear her today, the traffic was so loud. What, here? With these people? This is just intolerable. I cannot believe it, to sit here between Peter Grady and Bruce Fletcher. No, don't think about her Elizabeth, don't. Oh, my knees hurt. My hands are swollen. And my shoulder. That idiot doctor said the shot would help. I don't know if it is doing any good at all, but I have to keep trying, it hurts, it hurts. There's that whore who married that drunken doctor. I don't know how Father Emery allowed her to keep coming to church for so long when everyone knew she was living in sin with that reprobate. Never saw _her_ doing any penance. Well, she's gone now thank goodness. And that slimy insurance agent. I want my money back, you money grubbing sinner. I can't pay for these shots anymore without it. That vile, vile Peter Grady. Go, drink your beer, you filthy animal. The way you treated Narelle, she wasn't your toy, you didn't love her like I did. She was my friend, my… no, no, I know, I know she wouldn't have, no, mustn't think that. Oh lord, oh lord. Bruce Fletcher. Oh lord. Did he see me today? Oh lord. I am going to have to tell Father Emery again in confession tomorrow. I hope he doesn't expect me to do penance on my knees again, I don't think I can manage it. Don't think it, don't think it. If Father Emery ever knew about Sue... about before, about the calls, I want to hear voice once more ...you are a horrible, vile woman, you are revolting in God's eyes, don't think it, don't think it. My knees hurt. Oh, and that juvenile delinquent and his slut of a mother. What are they eating? That's just disgusting. Disgusting trash she is. I can't stand it. Get up, knees, please, get up. Yes. Ow! That hurt. Walk, carefully now. Get out of my way you idiot, walk, slowly. Hold the wall. Walk. Nearly there. Walk. Here you are. Yes, I want a cup of tea, why else would I be here? Another idiot. How many times have I ordered from her? Did he follow me? You are going to burn in hell you know, you stupid man. Demon drink. What? How dare you? Don't say anything more, you don't want him to say anything about Sue. Ohh this hurts, I just want my tea. A Bex might help… Bex, did I bring it? I'll have to get some water, no, no I forgot it. What? Well, never look a gift horse in the mouth, even if it is a jackass. Tablets. I hate tablets. Just take them Elizabeth, it doesn't matter where they come from God provides. Oh my, this tea is vile. Bitter today, must have been sitting in the urn since yesterday. This railway is going to the dogs. Sugar, idiot, bring me some more sugar. Vile tasting stuff. Drink it down Elizabeth, eat your biscuit. Better, better. That's a little better. Oh, my, a bit woozy. Must have stood up too quickly. Walk, Elizabeth, walk. Ignore the fools. Carefully. Dizzy. Sit down. Ahh, better, better. How very odd I feel. Like I'm floating. What is this? I feel... I feel... happy? What is this? I don't feel... no pain, no pain! Oh my Lord, oh my ...this is …bliss... oh my ...Lord...

…

...end...

Wild.


End file.
